Learning and Teaching
by Alma Heart
Summary: The mentoring program is now mandatory and all SOLDIER 1sts assigned to cadets. There are some misgivings on both sides. But will the relationships between our favorite 1sts and some equally loved young ones turn out good for everyone? Not just C and S.
1. Snow: A Prologue

**Learning and Teaching**

Author's Note: I know there are a ton of these, but I was inspired to write one myself, and so here it is! Mentoring at SOLDIER!  
The number of characters allowed to put on the summary made me lie a little. This isn't just a Cloud and Sephiroth fic. It is about Cloud and Sephiroth, but it'll also be about other people. I can't just play with them.  
Characters who I know are going to be very important in this fic: Cloud, Sephiroth, Zack, Angeal, Genesis, Reno, Tseng.  
If you like any of them, then I hope you'll like this fic!

Important Notes: This is a friendship fic and will stay that way. The only pairing that might come in here is ZackxAerith and that's because it's just so much fun to have people poke fun at him, and they're really cute. That won't be a centerpiece of this fic. If it's mentioned at all, it'll be in passing and in a cutsey manner. I'm scared of writing anything romantic, really. I am much more interested in inter-person relationships besides stuff like that, so there's going to be _a lot _of fun character interactions! Yay!  
I had a blast writing this! I hope you guys like it!  
Thanks for reading! ~Alma

* * *

**Snow - A Prologue**

Cloud stood still as he breathed in the crisp morning air, staring up at the sky. This was insane. It never snowed in Midgar. He had learned that almost as soon as he had come to the city. He would never have expected that the thing he would have missed most about Nibelheim would have been the snow; he had been entirely sick of the stuff after 14 years of nine month snow cover. However, after coming to the mega-metropolis that was Midgar, he had for the first time really appreciated the dancing little flakes from back home. There was something nearly dead, stuffy, about the city when nothing ever fell from the sky to wash the harsh metal surfaces and there was barely even ever wind to disturb the dust.

And yet, impossibly, there were tiny little white flakes dancing all around in the air, falling softly over an eerily quiet Midgar. It _was_ snowing.

For a long moment Cloud was still, watching the flakes dance. As they got caught in his hair and one of them landed on his nose, he smiled slightly at the familiarity. It really was nice to see snow, like greeting an old friend, even though the feeling was made bittersweet by a strong wave of homesickness that sometimes came up when he was alone in the morning.

But this wasn't really all like Nibelhiem. There weren't enough flakes to form the impossible overlap of thousands of little dancing things; his view was too constricted by various structures around him. That, and even though the snow had made the air clearer than normal, there was still the slightly acrid scent of fuel and mako lingering around.

Shaking the snow off his head out of habit, Cloud pulled the collar of his cadet uniform up to ward off the wind that was swirling the snowflakes and stepped out of the safety of the overhang in front of the door. His boots sank quietly into the soft drifts. There was widespread shock at the snowstorm; he had heard it that morning over the radio. The city had been brought to a standstill. All cadet classes had been cancelled, since the SOLDIER instructors had to be on call in case the snow caused an emergency more serious than people complaining about holdup on roads.

Hearing all that, Cloud had expected at least five feet of snow outside. However, given the rarity of snow ever occurring at _all_ in Midgar, he had still resolved to go out and see if he could do something in the snow. It would be a pity to let a day off involving snow simply pass by, especially in this city.

So now he was shocked and dangerously close to laughing at the fact that it could only possibly be two feet of snow piled up outside, probably less. True, he had perhaps grown up a mountain kid's life, and probably had seen more snow in his life than most people here, but still, only two feet? That was bordering on pitiful. Back home, all the kids in town would be out playing in this amount of snow.

Which was also what he had the urge to do. The snow was so perfect, softening the hard lines of the city and creating a fluffy, clean slate that beckoned him. He hadn't played in the snow since the winter before he had come here. It seemed such a long time ago. After a moment of indecision, Cloud shrugged. What could it hurt? This wasn't something he would get the opportunity to do any time soon. Most of the others probably didn't even know how, so they couldn't poke fun at him amusing himself out in the snow. They were all curled up shivering in their beds.

An hour later, he stepped back and observed his creation with a critical eye. The snowballs making up the snowman's form were modestly sized, so that the new resident of the yard stood up to about his chest height. Somewhat smaller than some he had made before, but the snowballs were for the most part uniform. This snow clung magnificently, making the act of creating the snowman very easy. However, this also meant that the small flakes clung to Cloud's hair, meaning that he had to shake his head every few minutes. Still, he didn't really mind. It'd been so long since he'd gotten snow stuck in his hair that it was almost enjoyable.

He hadn't had a respectable carrot to use, but he had managed to find one of the baby ones from the lunchroom. Finding sticks was impossible in this city; absolutely nothing grew here, but some broken wood from practice blades sufficed fine to create arms for his creation. Now the snowman grinned up at him, seeming completely out of place in Midgar, the city of progress and Shinra. However, out of place as it may have been, it also made Cloud very happy, an immature, childish glee that he enjoyed almost defiantly to the place he was.

Snow amplified sound even in the metal city, and so he heard boots crunching in the drifts earlier than he ordinarily would have. Cloud turned around at the same time the stranger caught sight of him, and they looked at each other for a moment.

Cloud's visitor looked a little older than he did, had black, spiky hair that was beginning to cover with snow, and was wearing, rather than the cadet uniform, a sleeveless turtleneck, heavy belt, and armor over his shoulders. He was also, as Cloud was, wearing heavy boots. There was a design on the front of his belt that all cadets knew very well.

The SOLDIER uniform.

However, the threatening aspect of the uniform was somewhat diminished by the fact that, even though he was wearing a sleeveless turtleneck out in the snow, the other man had a bright green scarf wrapped around his neck that clashed spectacularly with his purple shirt. It was also less intimidating because of the bright, smiling blue eyes that regarded Cloud over the scarf with an expression of pleased surprise, and the grin that the man was giving him.

After a moment of regarding him, the stranger cocked his head, knocking snow out of black spikes. "What've you go there?" He darted over gleefully, seeming unaffected by the snow on his bare arms.

"A snowman," Cloud murmured, somewhat taken aback by the other's enthusiasm.

"Yes! I thought that's what it was!" The stranger grinned from the snowman to Cloud, seeming filled with a sort of bouncing joy that made him move excitedly, . "I'll be it's the first one this city's had in years!" He flung his arms out excitedly, turning towards Cloud. "And I thought I was the only one here who knew what you were supposed to do with snow. Gods, thank you!"

Cloud smiled a little, taken by the other man's easy enthusiasm. He was still unsure what to make of him, though. He wore a SOLDIER 2nd uniform, which meant he was far higher than Cloud in the pecking order. But he didn't...act like a SOLDIER, not really.

After a moment, he said, tentatively, "...You're welcome."

The 2nd class laughed, mako-glowing eyes bright. "Seriously, you've restored my faith in the world!" A look of intense, happy pity flashed in his eyes as he gestured around. "Most of the people here just run away screaming at the sight of it! Poor guys have no idea what to do."

Then, almost as abruptly, the stranger was regarding the snowman closely with an appraising eye. Cloud paused, uneasy for a moment.

Then that grin came back and the 2nd looked over at him playfully. "That's a pretty good one, too." He cocked his head at the snowman again, a thoughtful look in his blue eyes.

"Ah! But it is missing one thing." With a flourish, the stranger drew a small object out of a pouch of his belt, rejected it, and reached in to get something eyes. Two more things and he pulled out a small object, brandishing it triumphantly at Cloud.

It was a small pin bearing the Shinra symbol.

Cloud cocked his head curiously at the suggestion.

"He can't be out here if he's not authorized," the 2nd explained, a playful light twinkling in blue eyes. Carefully, he crouched down and put the pin on the snowman's chest, making sure it'd stay. Then he stood back observing his handiwork.

A moment and he bounced over to look at Cloud. "See? Now he's an operative of Shinra, just like us, and no one can give him trouble!" Turning importantly to the snowman, the 2nd class threw a salute, trying hard to keep a straight face and failing. "Good day to you, Officer Snowman, sir!"

Cloud chuckled softly, unable to stifle the sound.

The 2nd class turned to him with that same smile and for a minute the two of them laughed together, the stranger much louder than Cloud.

But then the strange 2nd suddenly started. "Oh, speaking of operatives, I forgot!" He suddenly started looking around, then turned abruptly back to Cloud. "I've got to go save some poor infantrymen from the snow. Teach them how to use a shovel." He rolled his eyes pityingly and good naturedly, an amused smile on his face. "You want to come? I could use someone who knows which end of the shovel goes down, and I'm sure the others would really appreciate it."

Cloud blinked. But the offer appeared genuine, and it was very true that he knew how to use a snow shovel. He could probably be more useful here than almost anywhere else.

Not to mention it was a _SOLDIER_ who had invited him. That wasn't something that happened to cadets every day.

"Sure," he said, nodding.

A wide smile spread out on the other's face. "Awesome!" He pumped his fist in the air, without even appearing to think about it, just a natural flow of energy. "Come on, then."

Cloud fell into step beside the 2nd Class, looking curiously at the strangely effusive person. He'd never met someone so easily friendly before, nor so energized by a snowstorm.

"Oh, I totally forgot." Sparkling blue eyes came back to him, and the man smiled. "I'm SOLDIER 2nd Class, Zack Fair." He grinned. "But you can call me Zack."

Cloud nodded after a moment, shaking the snow out of his hair as the walked. "Cloud Strife. I'm a cadet here."

Zack smiled. "Nice to meet you, Cloud. I thought I was the only country kid in this entire city! Where are you from?"

"Nibelheim," Cloud answered. Then, emboldened by Zack's friendliness, he was able to ask, "You?"

"Gongaga," Zack replied.

Cloud's smile widened as he murmured, "It...sounds country-ish."

Zack laughed. "Yeah, tell me about it. Comes in handy though, on the one in a million chance when we get snow in Midgar, doesn't it? Puts us a step ahead of all those poor city kids."

Cloud smiled, listening quietly as Zack launched into a long explanation of how pitifully hopeless Midgar people were when it came to weather, even those in Shinra. It was all good natured, though, as if in pity of them rather than making fun. Zack seemed to be in the habit of using his hands in wide gestures to explain his statements, gesticulating back and forth and shaking his head animatedly.

It only took a short time to locate the foundering infantry unit. They were armed with snow shovels on one of the roads in front of the Shinra building, and seemed completely at a loss. It was obvious to Cloud that these people had not been outside in cold weather before. Many of them were underdressed or bundled up in the wrong places, and none of them seemed to be taking to the change in weather very well.

Zack shook his head pityingly at the sight and then strode confidently forward. "Hey, guys! Don't worry! Me and Cloud here'll set you straight in no time and then you can all go back inside!"

There was a collective sigh or groan in relief, and Cloud followed Zack down towards the road. Zack, with a grin, proudly handed Cloud a shovel. "Thanks for doing this. Show them what you've got, Cloud." Then, turning to the infantrymen, he beamed. "Now, you listen to Cloud, because he's like me and knows what he's doing. We'll give you some pointers on how to do this without getting soaked or hurting yourselves, we'll finish, and then I'll send you guys back, understood?"

"Yes, sir," came the enthusiastic reply, and all of the infantrymen shifted their grips on the shovel handles.

Zack smiled. "Alright. Let's go, then."

Cloud shifted the shovel in his hands, absorbing the novel experience of having infantrymen looking at him eagerly for direction. It was sort of weird, being a cadet. But this was something he knew about. So he set about showing them the best way to shovel the snow without hitting each other or hurting their backs.

Every now and then Zack, from the other side of the group where he was heaving snow left and right with a wide grin on his face, about twice as fast as the others, would shoot an amused look at Cloud and give him a grin of encouragement. By the end of the job, Cloud found himself automatically smiling back.


	2. Notifications

**Notifications**

-Three weeks later-

Sephiroth was pushing another sheet of paper aside when the doors to his office were flung open. Without looking up, he recognized by the footsteps and the manner in which _both_ doors were flung wide that it was Genesis who had entered. No one else would dare disturb the quiet of his office so blatantly. This being the case, he didn't glance up, knowing that Genesis would announce the reason for his presence in the loudest manner possible whether he was given acknowledgement or not. All he had to do was wait.

Genesis sauntered over to his friend, waving his hands about agitatedly. Something important must have happened to make him this expressive. As he approached, he asked loudly, "Have you heard the news, Sephiroth?" Despite the fact that he was given no response by the General, he wasn't at all discouraged. "The mentoring program has been verified. We're all babysitters now!"

That brought Sephiroth's head up slightly to regard Genesis as the red SOLDIER cocked his head and finally stopped waving and twirling his hands to punctuate his words. If Genesis had been expecting some sort of emotional response, he didn't get one. Instead, Sephiroth blinked, then replied, "I was aware of the suggestion, however I did not know it had been approved yet."

Genesis rolled his eyes expressively. "Oh, yes," he practically sang. "It was verified this morning. The president thinks it's a wonderful idea." A half-note of derision just slipped into his voice at that statement.

Sephiroth looked up finally as Genesis gracefully descended into a chair with the expected amount of flair, waving his arms and flicking his hair until he finally leaned forward and propped up his chin on his hand. Sephiroth was used to this and recognized it as the way his friend expressed either enthusiasm or displeasure. Now the only question was which one. Not always the easiest with this particular act.

One silver eyebrow raised. "And you are pleased with this?" Sephiroth asked passively as he reached for the next piece of paper on his seemingly endless pile.

That brought the usual spark of theatrical flair through Genesis' eyes and he smiled wide, raising his arms as if in some salutation to the ceiling. "Oh, no, I think it's a _terrible_ idea that will result in the deaths of many cadets," he exclaimed, shaking his head in mock despair before glancing at Sephiroth with mischievous eyes.

Sephiroth gave the red SOLDIER a long, blank look. Then, looking back down at his papers, he replied, "Don't let Angeal hear you say that."

Genesis chuckled. "Oh, I already told him." Leaning forward, he shook his head, faux-sadness clouding his blue eyes. "I heard he already submitted his application for a second student."

Sephiroth's eyebrows rose at that. "Can he even have two students?"

Genesis didn't answer. Instead leaning back, he sighed, eyes gazing at the ceiling as a smile of wonder crossed his face. "Why anyone, even Angeal, would want more than one is completely beyond me. Especially since the other one's such a hassle anyway-"

Genesis stopped his statement as Angeal knocked on the doorframe and entered through the doors that still rested open from when Genesis had flung them there earlier. He was smiling slightly, and the glance he gave Genesis left no doubt in anyone's mind that he knew exactly what his old friend had been saying a moment before.

"We're each to be assigned to one cadet," he said, addressing Sephiroth, who had glanced up with slight interest at Angeal's arrival. It was much easier to get pertinent information out of Angeal than the ever exaggerating Genesis.

Sephiroth nodded after a moment. "When?" he asked.

"This week," Angeal replied. Something disheartened crossed his face. "At the moment the VIPs are squabbling about how to choose which cadet goes where." Sephiroth nodded in understanding. That he could understand all too well. None of them would ever allow anything to be done in Shinra without feeling they had some hand in its passage. Such political maneuvering hurt Angeal's sense of honor, which Sephiroth did not entirely understand, however he acknowledged it, having observed it enough times. Thankfully, Angeal's face brightened again, and he said, "We'll be given the assignments and meet them on Saturday."

Sephiroth allowed a slight feeling of amusement at both the way Genesis rolled his eyes and at how excited Angeal appeared about this. Personally, he would rather not have to interact with a cadet, as they all either worshipped him with a sort of frustrating awe or skittered away if he so much as looked at them. However, orders were orders, so it would be best to simply accept them. Who knew, perhaps he'd happen upon a cadet who could actually say 2 coherent words to him together.

* * *

"That is unacceptable!"

Tseng stood impassively, not reacting to the venomous glare Hojo gave him. "It has already been done, sir," he replied, restraining the urge to sigh in annoyance at the stubborn denial the scientist was screaming at him. Really, one would have expected a grown man in such a high position to be a little more mature when something he didn't like occurred.

"It must be undone!" Hojo screeched hoarsely. His eyes burned behind his glasses, but in a way that failed to frighten the young turk, simply because the scientist looked like he would have a heart attack if he got much more excited. Tseng knew that Hojo couldn't do anything to him, no matter how displeased he became due to his place in the turks, so he was afforded the rare privilege of observing Hojo's actions without fear, and seeing just how absurd they could be.

A dubious privilege at best, he decided as Hojo stood before him, livid, thin hands clenched into straining fists. "The president has already decided to implement the mentorship program," he repeated calmly. "It is being processed as we speak."

"The General has much more important things to do than mess around with snot nosed brats!" Hojo hissed, eyes flashing.

The urge to sigh was getting stronger. "The program makes use of all high class SOLDIERs," Tseng stated, almost raising his eyes to the ceiling before catching himself. "The General, like the others, will be assigned a cadet. It will only be for two or three days a week they meet; it will not stress his schedule. This was taken into account when he was included in the program, as with the other prominent 1sts."

"This isn't just any 1st we're talking about!" Hojo spat, "this is Sephiroth!"

Oh Leviathan he wanted to roll his eyes. But this was a test of his ability to restrain his emotions, Tseng reminded himself. If he could pass this, then combat would never seem a problem again. "The administrating staff are aware of that," he replied tonelessly. "Their decision stands as I have told you."

Hojo's hands were shaking, as if uncontrollable, and the scientist's face twisted in malice. But then he stood straight, drawing himself up as if he had dignity to retain, and said haughtily, venomously, "Very well, then. We will see. Now get out."

Thanking Leviathan, Tseng obliged the grumpy scientist, turning and departing from the lab. This time, he carefully restrained a smile from affecting his expression. There. After fifteen minutes of that, he felt like he could weather anything with a straight face.

After the turk left, Hojo spent a few minutes pacing back and forth agitatedly. How dare they!? Sephiroth was _his_ subject; how dare they make a decision regarding a role as a mentor figure before consulting him! The General's unique mental state would be affected unpredictably by such an influence.

He wouldn't allow such tampering with his experiments. Grabbing a piece of paper, Hojo furiously scribbled a note to the cadet coordinator. If the man did not assign the General a small, weak, useless thing that would die upon its first time in real combat, he would die in a way worse than any he could imagine. Hojo smiled as he put the note in his pocket, to mysteriously appear on the coordinator's desk later that day. That would serve to end this nonsense.

* * *

"Cadet Strife, a moment."

Cloud looked up, eyes wide, at the instructing lieutenant. But, then, ignoring the sniggers from the others around him, he nodded and said, "Yes, sir," as was required to show attention. Abandoning his course out the door, he turned and waded through the crowd of cadets up towards his teacher's desk. On the way, he carefully stepped over the feet that flashed out to trip him and ignored the shoves and elbows he got, and the whispered jeers about being in trouble. Cloud was so quiet that he almost never got called out by an instructor; so all of his classmates were enjoying this.

However, once he was safely through, a sharp look from the teacher sent the other cadets out of the room. Cloud envied them. He was going to be late for lunch because of this, and have to squeeze in at a table rather than finding a quiet one to himself. But he dismissed that thought as he walked up to his instructor, looking at him warily. He hadn't though he had done anything wrong today, but some of his instructors disliked him for his quietness.

"Sir?" he asked as he came up to the desk.

The instructing lieutenant was fishing through a stack of papers. "Strife. You've been assigned to the new mentorship program that's being set up. Your info is being processed now and the program will begin by the end of this week." He looked up finally, pulling out a sheet of paper. "Do you understand?"

"Mentorship, sir?" Cloud asked, blinking. This wasn't what he had expected at all.

"You'll be assigned to a higher class SOLDIER, who will oversee your training up until the SOLDIER exams, then possibly afterwards if you pass," the teacher explained, stressing the if in the sentence. Cloud didn't respond to that. Then the instructor handed him a piece of paper. "This is a briefing from Director Lazard; it's got more information that I do. Read it, and report to practice gym 6-C at 8:00 sharp Saturday for your mentor assignment." He glanced up at Cloud. "Understood?"

Cloud blinked, still overloaded with information. "Yes, sir," he replied automatically.

"Good," the instructor replied, bending back over his papers. "Dismissed." He waved a hand vaguely, obviously not intending to pay any more attention to Cloud.

Nodding, Cloud hurried out of the room, carefully tucking away the paper he had been given. He was very surprised by this; he wasn't a stellar student even though he got good enough grades. But he would be thankful of any instruction a SOLDIER could give him. Unexpectedly, this upcoming Saturday became something of both trepidation and anticipation.


	3. First Impressions

**First Impressions**

Getting up at 8:00 on a Saturday would have been a source of grumbling back home, but here it wasn't much out of the norm. But Cloud did find it difficult to listen to every word of Director Lazard's speech so early in the morning. Not that it wasn't interesting. It was just that he was just a little too tired to hang off every word. But he listened as best he could, because part of it, like how the program would fit into schedules, and what would be expected of cadets, was pertinent information that he needed.

Paying attention would have been easier were it not for the redheaded cadet who sat about three seats to Cloud's left. Not that his shock of red hair was distracting in itself; Cloud had practice ignoring flashes of color, but rather every five minutes he would lounge in his chair, obviously bored with the entire situation. Cloud could understand being bored, but did he have to flaunt it to all those who were trying to pay proper respect and listen to what the Director was saying? It wasn't Director Lazard's fault that his speech was early in the morning; he deserved their full attention as much as they could give it.

Cloud turned his attention away from the unruly red flash and back to the Director's words. It was lucky he did, because Lazard just now began to address the mentor and cadet assignments. "Each of you were given a number when you came here," Lazard stated, blue eyes sweeping across the assembled SOLDIERs and cadets. "The person with the number that matches yours is the other in your pair. We will have a list of groups here after I finish for you to check to find each other."

Cloud listened attentively, but Lazard moved on to the future prospects of the program; hopes for the future and such, and he withdrew slightly, anxiety coiling in his gut. He wanted to turn around and look at the assembled SOLDIERs who could end up his mentor, but he was in the front and didn't want to disrespect Lazard by turning and looking. So he sat still. But he couldn't focus enough on the words of the glory of Shinra to keep himself from wondering anxiously, what kind of man would be responsible for him? He fervently hoped that they wouldn't look and just see a little, skinny kid who would never amount to anything. But he had no way of knowing until he knew who he was with. Unconsciously, his finger rubbed up and down the number two clipped to his shirt as he waited uneasily for the speech to finish.

* * *

Sephiroth sat still as Lazard went on about how this program would contribute to the prestige and glory of Shinra, only listening with half an ear. This part of company speeches he always tuned out because if he didn't he would be struck by the hypocrisy of sending these kids into fights that half of them wouldn't come out of. But it wasn't his place to comment on it, so he simply ignored it.

Which allowed him to notice how phenomenally bored Genesis appeared. The redhaired SOLDIER was leaning his chin on his arm, reclined as far back as he could get in his chair. He watched Lazard lazily, head cocked to one side, red hair flopped in his face. Unlike Angeal, who had gone to the front of the room, both Sephiroth and Genesis had preferred to sit in the back; Genesis so he could more easily shift around, Sephiroth so that he would avoid the stares of the cadets. Which was why the General was seated beside the very bored Genesis at all. Usually, he steered clear of Genesis in briefings because of that habit of fidgeting.

After about 2 minutes of "the glory of Shinra" which even Lazard was probably sick of saying, Genesis sat up and turned towards Sephiroth. "How can you sit still through this?" he whispered, voice so low that only Sephiroth's enhanced hearing allowed him to catch it.

Sephiroth glanced sidelong at Genesis, a dry look in his eyes. In no other way did he move.

Genesis blinked at the look, then understanding dawned on his face and he sat back, blue eyes suddenly twinkling with both chagrin and amusement. "Right. You have to sit through board meetings."

Sephiroth gave him a curt nod, before returning his eyes to the Director. Contrary to Genesis' belief, he too wanted to be up and moving, though perhaps for a different reason. He didn't have a problem sitting still. It was something else entirely. He was both oddly hopeful and full of dread at being assigned a cadet. There was a slim possibility that there was one in this room who could speak to him articulately. If that were true, perhaps this would be an interesting experience, though he was not sure he would choose to teach a child, given the decision. However, if he were faced with cadets like the ones he had met, the interaction would gain nothing for the cadet and only serve to frustrate the General, which did no one any good. So he waited impatiently to learn which one of the cadets would be his headache.

Genesis started as Sephiroth shifted slightly, sitting up straighter, if that were possible, in his seat. The red SOLDIER glanced at the General quizzically.

"Almost finished," Sephiroth murmured in explanation.

Genesis grinned. "Finally," he whispered in return, leaning forward in his chair as Lazard wished them all luck and success. "Let's get moving."

* * *

Cloud carefully maneuvered his way through the crowd of milling cadets and SOLDIERs, dodging in and out of holes in the crowd. He was small for a cadet, meaning that compared to SOLDIERs he was dwarfed. But it also meant he could get up to the front of the room relatively quickly, as moving in crowds was a skill he had been forced to develop to an art simply to move about.

As he drew near the group huddled around one of the lists that Lazard had procured, Cloud hesitated for a moment, the nervousness in the pit of his stomach balling up into something tight. His hands were white as chalk. But he swallowed and stepped forward, nearly laughing at how incredibly agitated he was. What sort of a SOLDIER would he make if he couldn't even look at a piece of paper?

Fingers automatically finding the number two that he had clipped to his shirt, he shuffled up to the table. It took him a moment to find the paper with the lower numbers on it, eyes scanning for his number. He found it, and followed the row across to the mentor side of the sheet.

And then everything seemed to stop dead, and he stood staring at the paper.

Once Lazard set them loose, Sephiroth sighed and stood up, wondering idly whether to wait until the cadet found him, as it was impossible that they didn't know who he was, or to go find them himself. Genesis, for his part, flashed what could either have been a sarcastic or encouraging smile and rolled his eyes at the same time, before practically pirouetting and moving off towards one of the lists that the admin staff had put around the room.

After a moment, however, Sephiroth decided that he had been still for long enough, and it would be better to even walk about to see if he could spot the cadet. He'd rather that than waiting still and being stared at.

The other SOLDIERs and cadets hurried to move out of his way as he walked towards the front, eyes roving over the milling bodies before him. Several times eyes flashed to him with almost overwhelming expectation, but only to come away confused or disheartened. Sephiroth knew why. Despite Lazard's directions, Sephiroth was not wearing his number in the open. Orders might be orders, but he was stared at enough as it was. He intensely disliked the feeling of being a prize of some sort for one of these boys to be lucky enough to win. He knew the number he was looking for, and so he didn't spare more than a glance to those who milled around him.

That, and he caught the looks of anger or jealousy some of the cadets flashed each other behind their newly found mentor's backs. Worries Angeal had expressed suddenly became much clearer in his mind. Whoever his cadet was, they would be fiercely hated by some of the others, he realized. These boys were certainly capable of that, at least some of them, and once the word got out, that would become exponentially worse. He restrained a sigh. How complicated this was.

Coming up to one of the tables in the front, this one slightly towards a corner, Sephiroth paused as a pair of SOLDIER and cadet moved out of his field of vision. There was an administrator standing behind a table with several sheets of paper laid out on it; the number-mentor listings, Sephiroth knew. There was young man standing in front of the table, staring at the paper with wide, fixed eyes.

Sephiroth glanced critically over the cadet, for there was no way he was anything other than a cadet. He was a good head and a half shorter than Sephiroth, and that was judging to include the fluff of blonde hair that spiked above his eyes. His arms and legs were thin and he looked like he could not be over 17 years old. He looked far to young to be in a room with SOLDIERs who had fought in war.

But he was a cadet or else he wouldn't be here, so Sephiroth walked over towards him. The General knew better than the judge by size alone, though this was a _very_ small warrior if he were to be one, and so he attempted to suspend his first judgment. Which was difficult.

As Sephiroth came closer, the cadet started and glanced up at him, hearing his footsteps. Sephiroth stopped, meeting bright blue eyes steadily. It surprised him that the cadet didn't immediately look away as some of the others did. Rather, this one stared into his eyes with just as much blank shock as he had been regarding the paper for almost five seconds before blinking and lowering his head so that blonde bangs covered his eyes.

Sephiroth silently raised an eyebrow at the reaction. The cadet shifted his feet for a moment before looking up into Sephiroth's eyes again, an uneasy, questioning gaze. He turned to face the General fully, standing at attention, though looking like he would like to slump his shoulders and hide behind his hair.

As he had begun to suspect, Sephiroth saw the number two pinned to the cadet's shirt. After a moment of taking in the young man standing before him, he cocked his head slightly, regarding those blue eyes.

The gaze that returned his was uneasy, asking for something, asking some question, but, surprisingly, did not seem to fear him. The boy was wary, ready to dart back it seemed depending on the General's reaction, but right now he was just waiting for something. Unfortunately, Sephiroth had no way of discerning exactly what.

After a moment, Sephiroth reached into his coat and withdrew the number he had tucked away there. Carefully, he held up the small number two for the cadet to see, turning it over in his gloved fingers. Confirmation. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the cadet's response.

Blue eyes fixed on the number in Sephiroth's hand for a moment. That seemed to make it click, and the cadet blinked for a moment before looking carefully back at Sephiroth.

"Cadet...Strife, then?" Sephiroth asked quietly, reading the name off the nametag the boy wore.

Strife nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied, his voice soft, but respectably even. He still looked as if he had just suffered the shock of his life. Sephiroth noted this and decided to be gentle for the moment.

He glanced over at the admin, not needing to voice his request because his eyes were apparently enough. Nodding, the man held out a file to him. "This one's his, sir. Good luck, you two."

Sephiroth nodded silently, glancing at Strife again. What he saw, though encouraging in that the boy wasn't cringing, nonetheless meant that this would probably be a largely one sided conversation.

Which was alright, he supposed. Flipping open the folder, he glanced at the quick information clipped to the cover. _Cloud Strife, age...18? Hmm...not likely._ He highly doubted that, but it wasn't really a problem either way. He found the schedule of their meeting times and, knowing it would be emailed to him, held it out to the cadet. "Here."

Cloud blinked, then nodded and accepted the schedule, glancing at it for about half a second before returning his eyes curiously and warily to the General. He wasn't sure what to do or think, what even to say. He didn't even know if anything would come out if he tried; his throat was tight, his hands cold. But, unexpectedly, he didn't feel terrified, just incredibly out of his depth, floundering somewhere in that green gaze and having nothing to hold onto.

"Our first meeting should be today." At the General's words, Cloud glanced up and was met with a steady gaze. Then, it suddenly recomputed that he was holding the schedule. Hurriedly, he scanned down it, finding the first time slot only after his gaze jumped over the entire following week. Embarrassed and flustered, he nodded and tried to find his voice.

"Yes, sir...today at 4:00." It was so much easier to speak while looking at the piece of paper with standardized text words. He was able to steady himself slightly, even though it felt as if his entire body were shaking and his heart rate seemed far too erratic. Breathing was important, he remembered. But he had to look up to show respect; mumbling into the floor wasn't a way to speak to the General.

Sephiroth was regarding him with unreadable eyes. But then he nodded, a slight dip of his head. "Very good, then."

That sounded like it could be dismissal, but Cloud wasn't sure, and he didn't want to walk out without permission. But the thoughts of times reminded him of the class he had in 20 minutes. Looking up uneasily at Sephiroth, he swallowed and spoke up, praying his voice would stay steady. "Sorry to run out, sir, but I have a class...in a little while." He paused, watching the General carefully.

Sephiroth was surprised at the cadet's words, and somewhat impressed. It was unusual that even some 2nd classes would own up to having somewhere they needed to be when he was talking to them. It also occurred to him that the boy probably wanted to get away as quickly as possible, but he dismissed that thought after a moment. This cadet didn't seem to react in fear. Rather, he seemed to say this out of a genuine desire to be prepared for his classes. How interesting.

To Cloud's surprise, Sephiroth nodded. "You'd better go then," the General said, clearly giving him permission to go.

Cloud blinked for a moment. Something changed slightly in the way he was standing, caught by Sephiroth's eyes. It was as if the desire to spring back had diminished now. "Thank you, sir," Cloud said, and his eyes uncertainly echoed the words, for a moment lit with surprised gratitude. It was as if he had expected something else entirely. "I'll...go, then." However, he obviously felt that those weren't acceptable parting words, because he seemed to gather himself and said, "I'll see you at four."

Sephiroth nodded and watched as the boy drew away from him. Such an odd cadet, this one. But then, he suddenly looked over his shoulder, reminded of something he should tell the boy. "Strife." He was much less frustrated than he had expected to be, and he didn't want that to change. He therefore ought to make some expectations immediately clear.

Cloud nearly spun on one foot to turn towards him. "Yes, sir?" the cadet asked, again watching him uncertainly.

Sephiroth met his eyes. "I expect you to be on time," he said with a long look.

Cloud blinked at the words, then nodded immediately. "Yes, sir," he replied firmly, sounding surprised at the statement. As if he would never have thought of being late, not for the world.

Sephiroth felt the urge to smile at that. Considerate of him, or perhaps simply afraid. Either way, it was something he appreciated. "Good," he said softly, nodding his head at the cadet, wondering if it would look like approval at all from the others eyes. "Go." He allowed the tone of his voice to come out slightly milder than usual, so as not to make it seem a reproach or an order, but permission to leave.

Cloud blinked. Then he nodded, again firmly. "Yes, sir." After half a second of looking at Sephiroth with a slightly puzzled expression, he suddenly shook his head very slightly and hurried away, disappearing into the crowd with somewhat surprising speed.

* * *

Sephiroth stood still for a long moment, gathering his thoughts. That had been...different. _Very_ different. He wasn't entirely sure the significance of everything that had just happened; wasn't entirely sure if the cadet were frightened of him. At some times it seemed so, and yet others, as that final, automatic, and assured response, seemed to hint otherwise. He also didn't know what he thought of the boy. That would have to be sorted out, hopefully soon. He didn't remember being this confused after such a short interaction in quite a while.

Still puzzling over one Cloud Strife, Sephiroth made his way slowly through the crowd, glancing around for the progress of the others as he began to make his way out. Like the boy, he also had somewhere to go, and he also had no desire to stay here any longer than he had to. He was still being stared at by hopeful cadets, and the constant feeling of eyes on him wore on his patience.

Somewhere across the room, he found the red coat he had been looking for. Genesis was halfway across the room, and appeared to be speaking to another redhead, a skinny, tall cadet. Genesis was back to him, but he could read from the tension in his shoulders and his stance that the redhead was uneasy. For once, Sephiroth understood the other man's sentiment perfectly. Neither of them really knew how to deal with cadets.

Sephiroth mused about the odds of Genesis being paired with the only other redhead in the room as he glanced around for Angeal. It was a moment before he found him, standing off towards one side of the room, talking with someone Sephiroth couldn't see through the crowd. Predictably, unlike Genesis and himself, Angeal seemed totally at ease as he stood relaxed, a smile on his face. Sephiroth could not entirely understand that smile, that look of content and enjoyment as Angeal got to know the cadet who was sure to be there. Resisting the urge to shake his head, he turned back towards the door.

Lazard glanced up as Sephiroth came over, a question momentarily flashing in his blue eyes. However, Sephiroth didn't give any direct answer, just nodding respectfully before walking past the SOLDIER director. He was not in the habit of sharing many of his thoughts, however this time he wasn't even sure what he would say even if he had been inclined to answer. To put it mildly, he was confounded by Strife's reaction, and also by his own. Sephiroth restrained a sigh. He never would have agreed to this had he known it would cause so much confusion only after about a 2 minute conversation.

He was getting to the elevator, to return to his office, when someone called his name from behind him. Usually, he would have ignored it, but this voice he knew. He glanced up to see Genesis coming behind him, brandishing a cadet file in his hand. One look at the red-head's face told Sephiroth that Genesis was agitated, and if this were another situation, he would have avoided him just to escape the avalanche of complaints that was sure to come. However, they were going to be sharing the same elevator, so it would be best to simply resign to the fact and tune him out.

Genesis came up with a long suffering sigh. "That meeting was a complete waste of time."

Sephiroth did not glance up at Genesis, despite the fact that he was mildly curious about the red SOLDIER's reaction to his cadet. He knew that Genesis did not require any encouragement.

Genesis also knew not to expect any, and so continued right along with his tirade. Several comments about the obnoxious length of the introductory speech went right through Sephiroth's ears without even being bothered with. But then Genesis continued to his next sore subject, one that Sephiroth was more interested in, though he never would have admitted it.

"I can't believe they assigned me to that boy." Then, continuing as if Sephiroth had given him a disbelieving response, Genesis hurriedly assured him, "He's the most irreverent cadet I've ever met! Thinks he already knows everything, the cocky little hooligan; casual with everyone, even his superiors...and can you believe it, he obviously wasn't listening to half that assembly, because twice he asked me things that had already been explained to us!"

Sephiroth had been trying to act like he wasn't listening; encouraging Genesis when he was like this was not often a good idea. However, after that description of the redheaded cadet he had glimpsed in the assembly room, he found himself looking at Genesis oddly. The thought that Genesis had been assigned to a cocky, know it all, _redhead_ cadet...who didn't pay attention during assemblies...he had to admit, that was amusing.

Genesis paused when he caught the look. "What?"

Sephiroth almost blinked, then quickly broke eye contact. "...Nothing."

Genesis blinked at him for a moment, his train of thought completely derailed. For a moment, he seemed about to rant further, but then, surprising Sephiroth, he sighed instead. "Well, we'll see at our meeting later if he's really any good."

Sephiroth glanced sidelong at Genesis, surprised. That had been much shorter than usual. Was he trying to control his first judgment? That was something Genesis rarely even acknowledged, let alone tried to avoid. Was this because he had a student to teach?

Genesis was thoughtfully silent for the moment Sephiroth was looking at him, regarding the wall so closely that he didn't even notice the glance. But then, suddenly, he glanced at Sephiroth, as if only just remembering something. "And yours?" he asked, blue eyes flashing with genuine curiosity. "How was that?"

Sephiroth paused for a moment. That was the same question Lazard had silently asked him and to which he had refused an answer. But this wasn't Lazard, this was Genesis. To a point, he was more comfortable speaking of such things with the red SOLDIER, especially since they shared a mutual inexperience in the mentor role. But, still, did he have an answer to give?

After a moment, he settled for something that approximated to honesty. "I'm not sure," he replied, staring at the wall with the same contemplation Genesis had a moment before. But then he glanced over and met blue eyes. "I guess I'll have to see that later today, too."

Genesis smiled then and nodded as he stepped into the elevator. Sephiroth followed, surprised by the odd feeling of being in complete understanding with him. It was kind of nice, once in a while. He chuckled silently to himself. _How odd you cadets make us act. Perhaps Angeal was right about this doing all of us some good..._

Then Genesis began complaining about paperwork and somehow related a quote from _Loveless_ to such a topic, and Sephiroth decided that the world was a better place when he did not retain understanding of the other man for too long. This was going to be a _long_ elevator ride.


	4. Lunch and Reassurances

**Lunch and Reassurances**

Cloud sighed as he looked out at the lunchroom. Cadets were milling between the tables, stepping or tripping over outstretched legs and bags, and skidding on stray pieces of lettuce. The line began somewhere across the room. Getting there, through the pushing, shoving, spilled ketchup, and grumpy kitchen aids, was not something he was looking forward to. However, his stomach sternly rejected the idea of just skipping it all together and getting a snack from the vending machine on the far side. So, with a slight sigh, he began ducking his way through the crowd.

Ten minutes later, this time armed with his lunch, Cloud waded through the chaos of the cafeteria, moving towards the back where there usually was an empty table. Luckily, even though he was a little late, the table in the back was still unoccupied. With a slight sigh of relief, the cadet slid into a seat, putting his tray down and leaning back against the wall. Goodness, he was hungry. Probably from the unusual amount of stress that morning.

Cloud was accustomed to eating alone; he always felt awkward and confused when someone else sat with him. He wasn't very good at talking to the others, and because he was so quiet most of them didn't seem to like him.

So when there was a very loud shout of his name, Cloud looked up, surprised. Emerging from the crowd of cadets was someone in a SOLDIER uniform, brandishing something green in his hands. Zachary Fair made his way towards Cloud's back table, a wide grin on his face as he held up his salad as if he had obtained some great triumph. "Cloud!"

Cloud blinked, then smiled slightly in surprised pleasure. This was different, though. This was Zack. Zack seemed to genuinely and effusively care about everyone around him; it was impossible not to feel at ease when he was around. And, for some reason, since meeting him out in the snow a few weeks before, Zack, though already a SOLDIER 2nd class, had firmly decided that the quiet, awkward cadet was a special friend. Cloud couldn't understand why the happy 2nd class has singled him out especially, but he was glad for it.

So he couldn't keep a half-grin from spreading across his face as Zack sat down across from him, setting down his chicken salad and chocolate milk as if they were sacred before glancing up at his friend with a wide smile on his face. "Ha!" Zack said triumphantly. "I've overcome the main floor mess hall! Thought I might be rusty."

Cloud smiled slightly before bending over his food.

Zack chuckled at the smile; over the past month he had learned that it was quite an achievement to cause this serious little cadet to smile even slightly. It was almost like trying to get Sephiroth to look amused, however relatively easier. He would have been scared if it was that hard. Zack was proud to say that he had gotten to the point where he could make Cloud smile just about every time he saw him. His next task was to get the blonde to laugh more often.

Crunching happily on a something green, Zack leaned across the table towards Cloud. "So, how's your day been?"

Cloud looked up from his food, meeting Zack's eyes as he hesitated, thinking of something to say. That was one thing about Cloud that Zack had noticed right away on meeting the cadet. Cloud almost never answered without first carefully choosing his words. It was an odd quality to find in someone that young, or even Zack's own age.

Cloud cocked his head slightly. "It's been alright..." he answered after a moment.

Zack raised an eyebrow. That was the other thing about Cloud. He had an undeniable gift for giving extremely vague, neutral answers. If he didn't like him so much, Zack would suggest he become a diplomat or public relations manager. Shaking his head in playful reproach, Zack leaned forward across the table. "Come on! That's not a real answer. I want to know what you've been up to."

Cloud glanced up at Zack, with that same little amused smile on his face, but then he shrugged slightly, as if to indicate that he hadn't been doing anything, something which Zack knew wasn't true.

Zack shook his head. "Aww, please? How could you not have done anything all day? I mean, you were up at seven this morning."

Cloud paused, surprised, looking up at Zack. "How did you know that?"

Zack shrugged, smiling brightly. "I saw you."

Cloud nodded skeptically, looking at Zack carefully. "Why were you up at seven?" Zack, as a rule, hardly ever woke up unless he had to. He had a very, very busy alarm clock.

Zack shrugged. "Angeal's getting a new cadet today, and the meeting was at eight. So he scheduled our training session earlier than normal." He shrugged with an easy grin, shaking his head in mock despair, as if the decision was pitiable. "Angeal likes mornings." Zack obviously didn't understand how that was possible.

Cloud blinked. That was true, he had forgotten that Zack's mentor was among the 1sts. He hadn't noticed 1st Class Hewely during the meeting, but he had been slightly preoccupied with other things and other SOLDIERs. He cocked his head. "He's allowed to have two students?"

Zack beamed with pride. "They wouldn't say no to him. He's too good a teacher. There isn't a cadet alive that Angeal can't do something for."

Cloud smiled a little at the thought of Zack as a cadet. The pride that Zack took in 1st Class Hewley's skills was obvious and strong, and it was nice to see. Cloud sighed quietly. He wished he were worthy of feeling pride in his mentor. But, no, impossible, not when it was him. Cloud wasn't worthy of feeling pride in what he could do. It didn't have anything to do with Cloud.

Quietly, Cloud said, "Actually, I was at that meeting..."

Zack's head shot up at that. "Really?" He beamed. "Why didn't you tell me you were in the mentoring program!" Then, ignoring the statement and the fact that they hadn't seen each other since Cloud had found out two days before, Zack leaned forward enthusiastically and asked, "Well, who are you assigned to? You were assigned a mentor today, right?"

Cloud nodded quietly, ducking his head slightly, as if trying to keep the other cadets in the room from seeing. Without really thinking, he hunched down towards his lunch, as if trying to hide. "Well..."

Zack cocked his head. "Yeah. Come on. It's great you're in the program, you'll do awesome." He beamed suddenly. "I might even know your mentor. I could give you tips!"

Cloud shrank down even farther, becoming remarkably small, even for a boy his size. Zack cocked his head at the reaction. Cloud was withdrawn, sure, but usually he wasn't quite this unwilling to talk to his friend.

Finally, mumbling down into his food, Cloud replied, "Well...He's..." He hesitated for a long moment, then very quickly blurted the word. "Sephiroth."

Zack's eyes were blue saucers. Without really any thought, he jumped up and half-yelled "WHAT!" The expression on his face was dead center between shock and a grin.

It was only about half a second afterwards, when a few of the other tables in the back had quieted at the noise, that Zack realized Cloud was looking at him with a shocked, practically terrified look that meant he probably didn't want that information broadcasted at the top of Zack's lungs to all of the other cadets in the room. After blinking blankly at Cloud for an instant, Zack's expression thankfully flashed in complete understanding. However, that still left him standing up with about 40 cadets looking at him.

But Zack Fair, SOLDIER 2nd Class, had always been a quick thinker, and wasn't about to be phased by the situation.

Cloud jumped as Zack leaned down against the table and cried, "Your mother got you _that_ for your birthday!"

As Cloud blinked at him, completely lost, Zack was pleased to see that that had been enough to diffuse most of the interest of the lunchroom. Most of the cadets laughed, but turned back to their food. Zack was well known for somewhat random, odd outbursts when he was happy, so most of them would just assume that. Those who didn't know him would almost certainly write him off as strange and over energized and nothing more. Zack was fine with that.

Dropping his voice and leaning forward Zack cocked his head, "Whoa, really? Him?" He very carefully kept his voice low, even though he wasn't saying the name.

Cloud nodded again reluctantly.

Zack restrained a sigh. Cloud looked unhappy. And he bet he knew the reason. As long as he had known him, the poor kid had had a huge self-confidence problem.

That, and Sephiroth had a knack for scaring people simply by existing. Shaking his head, Zack smiled reassuringly at his friend. "Really, Cloud, you shouldn't worry so much. He's never actually killed a cadet because he didn't like them." Then, becoming slightly more serious, he added, "I don't think he'll have a problem with you. He's more partial to quiet people."

Cloud shook his head. "I'm not..." He sighed. "I'm not the kind of cadet someone like him would want."

Zack blinked, completely taken aback. "What? Why would you think that?"

Cloud looked up at Zack, surprised. Involuntarily, his eyes asked his friend how he could say that.

Zack sighed, shaking his head with a slight smile. _Oh, Cloud._ His little cadet friend was impossible sometimes. Particularly when asked to measure his own self-worth. Of _course_ he wasn't going to be at SOLDIER level right now; that was why he was assigned to Sephiroth in the first place. Sephiroth wouldn't expect him to be amazing. How was he going to reassure his buddy of that?

"I mean, come on," Zack chuckled at him. "Not every cadet will go out and help clueless foot-soldiers shovel when there's three feet of snow on the ground."

Cloud cocked his head, looking at Zack with an expression that seemed undecided between a smile and sadness. He shook his head. "That's snow. This is..."

Zack shook his head. "It's the same thing, Cloud!" He grinned. "He's just a really big snowbank..."

Cloud blinked at Zack, the sad look on his face replaced by something nonplussed. The comparison of Sephiroth with a snowbank was certainly...something only Zack would ever come up with.

Zack took advantage of Cloud's confusion to restate his point. "You'll be fine, Cloud. Honest. He's...well, he's not friendly, but he's not crazy, either. I think you two will do ok."

Cloud glanced up at him. "You think so?" He didn't sound convinced.

Zack nodded vigorously. "Yeah!" He leaned forward earnestly, speaking quickly. "I don't know him that well, but Angeal likes him. That's got to count for something. He's not a bad guy."

Cloud's eyes moved back to his chicken, as he pushed it around with his fork. "Mmm."

Zack cocked his head. _Still not good enough, eh?_ "When are you two meeting?"

Cloud blinked, but the answer was automatic, since it was already turning around in his head so much. "Four."

"Ok." At the 'get down to business' tone of Zack's voice, he looked up again. The SOLDIER 2nd was smiling at him. "So you go up there and see him today. That's good."

Cloud shrank down towards his food. He was not entirely sure whether or not he was of the same opinion.

"Tell you what," Zack said. "Go up there today and just see how it goes, ok? Give you both a chance before you freak out too much."

Cloud started to make an uncertain sound, but Zack shook his head. "Trust me on this one. Give him a chance. Then come back and tell me what you think. Do that for me?"

Cloud blinked, looking up at Zack. Zack was smiling plaintively at him, head cocked to one side. _Please?_ was written quite clearly in his eyes.

Cloud considered the words for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."

Zack smiled. "Good." He leaned back, crunching lettuce in his mouth. "Everything'll go fine, Cloud, and you'll be surprised. Bet you anything."

Head down towards his food, Cloud smiled slightly, shaking his head to decline the forbidden act of betting. Despite everything, Zack's assurances did make him feel a little better. "Thanks, Zack."

A shrug, intermitted with crunches, and Zack was smiling at him again. "Anytime for my buddy."

* * *

Sephiroth realized that he was staring absently at his lunch, rather than eating it as he should have been. Not really the best use of his time, given that he had about twelve other things he had to do before four-o-clock today, when that cadet would be coming to see him…

Which he really shouldn't be worrying about as much as he was. It was almost a little embarrassing that he could be distracted so easily by the thought of the little blond boy who had confused him so effortlessly that morning. How was he supposed to know how to teach anyone, let alone Strife who he couldn't even remotely figure out?

With a slight sigh, Sephiroth closed his eyes momentarily to rein in that train of thought for at least the fifth time. Panicking was neither productive nor in his personality. He refused to freak out about something that really shouldn't unnerve him as much as it did. That could hardly be considered the conduct of a military leader. How hard could it be to teach one cadet?

He was lying to himself and he knew it. It wasn't the military commander who was having this problem. It was him, Sephiroth, and he knew it was not because this was a cadet. It was because it was a person. The role of mentor necessitated personal involvement, and when brutally honest with himself, he simply didn't know how to interact on a pe$rsonal level. Business was all well and good, but nothing could be learned from someone who wouldn't look you in the eye and try to see you. Sephiroth didn't know if he had that in him. Sure, he could spot the weak link in a battalion easily, smell fear in an opponent and use it to his psychological advantage. But off the battlefield…he wasn't so sure.

Mentally scolding himself, Sephiroth sighed and leaned down over his food. _Eat, and stop wasting time. You don't have the luxury of sitting here fretting until four._

Which, unfortunately, was very true. In fact, he didn't technically have time to eat for more than fifteen minutes, so he should stop wasting it.

He was cutting the pre-measured portion of some meat he hadn't bothered to identify when someone walked into the room. Normally, Sephiroth would have not been eating in the SOLDIER 1st lounge/dining area, at all. He preferred to eat alone in his office. However, today he had just been given a huge stack of assorted deployment orders, troop movement verifications, death certificates, supplies orders, party invitations, and who knew what to sign that he literally would not have room to breathe on his desk until he passed in his _last_ bunch to Lazard, which he hadn't yet found time to do. His desk was drowning in paper. There had been the option to sit on the floor, and it had occurred to him. But he had just been unable to make himself do that, even to avoid company. His food came from the SOLDIER 1st cafeteria anyway. For once, he could sit there and eat it fast.

And so here chance found Sephiroth sitting in the corner of the lounge, back to the wall, looking up in surprise and without too much pleasure at the sound of his name. He was preparing ways to tell the intruder to disappear without actually injuring anyone's pride, when he found his addressor and realized it was Angeal.

That called everything off and Sephiroth relaxed slightly, though no one could tell, as Angeal walked over to him. Of anyone in the world, Angeal he could take. In fact, he didn't really even mind.

"Sephiroth, what are you doing out here?" Angeal asked as he came up next to his friend. He had only ever seen Sephiroth eating in a public place like this once, missions and warlines notwithstanding, where they all ate whenever and whatever they could. It was very unusual to see at home in the Shinra building particularly, where Sephiroth couldn't even go two steps without someone else either hailing him to do something or staring at him, which he hated.

Sephiroth shook his head with a quiet growl. "New load of paperwork today. There is no room on my desk." With a slight inclination of his head, he invited Angeal to sit.

Angeal sighed in sympathy. "I hear you." At Sephiroth's offer, he shook his head. "Thank you, but I already ate. I have to run, actually. Zack wanted to talk to me about something, and if I go now I might catch-"

He stopped as Sephiroth tensed very slightly, his eyes turning towards the side door. Angeal knew the look. Sephiroth was still listening, but something else had set him off, something else was happening that Angeal would hear in about a twentieth of a second-

"You are insufferable!"

They both knew that voice. Angeal followed Sephiroth's gaze.

"I cannot believe you said that!"

One thing about being important, apparently, was that people judged you by the size of the doorways to your cafeteria, at least in Shinra. Thus, in keeping with the high stature of it's occupants, there was a huge side entrance to the 1st's cafeteria, an open doorway that eliminated a great deal of privacy from the diners. Through this they could see-and hear-everything that was going on near Genesis' office.

Angeal noticed an odd cant to Sephiroth's eyebrows at the sound of moving furniture.

Matching volume for volume, a retort in a voice Sephiroth didn't know. "That's just 'cause you can't say you're wrong!" An instant later and a red head burst out of the door to Genesis' office. But it wasn't Genesis and it wasn't wearing red.

The cadet, then.

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. This was a slightly distressing situation, as in Sephiroth's opinion the one out of the three of them most likely to hit a cadet was Genesis. He'd been hoping that the red SOLDIER got an agreeable cadet. The problem was simple. Genesis was hard to get along with. There was no way he could ever get along with someone who manifested the same qualities. It was a recipe for disaster. For both mentor and student, as Sephiroth knew that Genesis would regret his rash actions eventually, but never be able to apologize for them. It was one of the qualities that he at the same time appreciated and detested of his friend: his incredible pride.

"Do not walk away from me, kid!" Genesis burst out of his office a moment later. One look at him was enough to tell Sephiroth that he was furious, and therefore probably not at his most eloquent. "I am trying to _teach_ you a thing or two! You have to _listen_."

The redheaded cadet whirled at the words, blue eyes flashing. This one obviously was not about to back down. "Why should I? You don't even know what you're talking about!"

_Wonderful._ Sephiroth restrained the mounting urge to roll his eyes. _Just__ like him._ Of all the worst things to do when Genesis was angry, (which he admitted to often doing himself), dismissing his knowledge was probably the stupidest thing to do in this situation. The red SOLDIER would never admit it, but he knew his limitations. He was not the strongest man, he was not the biggest, or the most frightening to see, but he was smart, and he took intense pride in how much he knew.

Genesis was going to kill the cadet.

To Sephiroth's surprise, and the cadet's good fortune, Genesis seemed to be in that same mood of restraint that had manifested itself in the elevator. Instead of actually killing the cadet, he only glared like he was going to kill him and spat, "I do know what I'm talking about! I know a thing or two about war, brat, and I know that with that attitude you won't survive a day with me, let alone with-"

The younger redhead gave a clipped laugh that cut him off. "Oh, and I just take everything you say? Maybe I don't want to! Maybe I'd be better of training myself than working with a stuck up pansy like you!"

Second stupid move. Insult Genesis' lack of size and the somewhat feminine aspects of his sense of taste, which he was extremely defensive of. Perfect way to make him hate you, and Genesis held a grudge forever.

Murder flashed in Genesis' eyes, but again he restrained himself. His tone remained murderous, and spiteful. "Oh, rude now, are we? Refusing my graciously offered help. Then get out of my sight, see how it goes!" He waved his hand dismissively, glaring at the cadet with narrowed eyes.

It was a challenge if Sephiroth had ever seen one.

_Genesis, he'll answer it. Don't you see, this will only-_

"I will!" the cadet yelled, and turned on his heel, walking away so fast that it seemed to take Genesis a moment to realize it.

The cadet wasn't easily intimidated. Sephiroth conceded that point as he watched the red SOLDIER warily. The young redhead had answered the challenge fearlessly. That wasn't easy to do.

Genesis wasn't someone it was easy to walk away from. And he never forgot it, either.

Genesis blinked at where the cadet had disappeared. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, puzzling Sephiroth. Genesis almost looked sad for a second there, upset rather than angry.

Then the anger was back full force, making Genesis' eyes glow the color of the sky. The red SOLDIER glared after the cadet. "Fine!" he spat softly, growling the word as he stormed into his office and slammed the door so hard that Sephiroth's plates shook.

Sephiroth looked at the door, sighing softly. That was the Genesis he knew. His heart sank to think of the grudge Genesis would hold against his assigned cadet now.

Then, for some unfathomable reason, Angeal laughed softly. Startled out of his thoughts by this completely out of context reaction, Sephiroth glanced over at his friend with an extremely puzzled look.

Angeal was chuckling under his breath, shaking his head slightly, looking over at Genesis' office.

Sephiroth stared. "Angeal?" His tone demanded an explanation.

Angeal sighed softly, smiling a little. "I was worried about Genesis and Reno. But not anymore."

Sephiroth blinked. Angeal had somehow lost his mind in the last two minutes. It was the only explanation he could come up with, but given the lucid light in his friend's eyes, it was wholly unsatisfactory. "I don't understand…"

Angeal looked over at him. "They'll do each other good. I can tell."

Sephiroth wished for the millionth time that he understood what Angeal saw in people to give him this strange and completely unpredictable faith in certain utterly impossible relationships.

Such as his and Genesis'.

"And that which we just observed was simply…some evidence of this?" Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at Angeal. _This_ was why he was worried about Cloud, he decided. Angeal could obviously either see things that weren't there, as Sephiroth believed, or that Sephiroth couldn't see. How was he supposed to keep up with this?

Then he stopped. Angeal was smiling, his little smile that he only used when he was happy. "That's just them being way too compatible. They don't realize just how similar they are. Not everyone can get along so well with their cadet for the first time. For people like Genesis, it takes time."

Sephiroth blinked. Not everyone…Angeal was referring to someone else?

Angeal glanced at Sephiroth and gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. They're assigned to each other, so they have to see each other again. They'll cool down and then they'll be alright. They really are perfect for each other."

Sephiroth shook his head slightly. _You're insane…_ But, as always, something in him that _wanted_ Angeal to be right about the world was reassured by that smile.

If he hadn't be grateful for that so much it really would have annoyed him a lot how easily Angeal could calm him down with the most illogical assurances. It wasn't something he could ever understand.

"You don't have to worry about stuff like that though, not with yours." A slight nudge against his shoulder. "You two will be fine."

Sephiroth didn't process that he was being referred to until Angeal had waved and started to walk away. Then he stared after his friend silently.

How Angeal could tell he was worried he was convinced he would never understand.

How Angeal was certain he would be alright was preposterous. And it, too, was illogically reassuring.

Sephiroth looked down at his food. He trusted Angeal. He had trusted Angeal with his life more times than he could count, and trusted him enough that the fact he had noticed Sephiroth's discomfort wasn't a problem. But, still…this wasn't anything like that. Angeal didn't know Strife any more than Sephiroth did. It wasn't…

He knew what Angeal would say to that. _Hey, trust me._

He sighed softly, uncertain for a moment. But, as usual, his attachment and regard overcame his logical judgment. He ignored that this wasn't how it was supposed to be. _Fine._

A glance at the clock told him it was almost 1:30. He had to go to Scarlett's weapons demonstration in about fifteen seconds.

It also meant he had 3 and a half hours before he learned which theory was correct, his or Angeal's. If he could just survive Scarlett, perhaps the cadet wouldn't seem quite so difficult.

_What a day._

* * *

A/N: Srry this took so long, guys. Knee surgery knocked me out of my groove. But here you go. The identity of the "mysterious" redhead is revealed! :) Next chapter I hope to get to Cloud's first lesson! Something to look forward to. See ya, ~Alma


	5. Breaking the Ice

A/N:  
Whew. I'm alive, I swear! And there's an update! I am _soooooooo_ sorry this took so long! In apology, here is a really really really long chapter! Also, about the length, I need you guys' opinion. Is this too long to have in a single chapter? It's about as long as Reverberation, which is a oneshot, so I'm kinda uncertain what to do with it. It is all one scene, so I feel like it should be in this format, but please tell me if it's terrible to scroll down the whole thing...  
I really hope you all like this chapter, I love writing these guys. :D  
~Alma

* * *

**Breaking the Ice**

Cloud carefully read the next question on the white page that glared up at him from his desk. Each question was spelled out in very small, standardized text, leaving large empty spaces divided by endless black lines.

_Ok, ok, one question at a time. Remember the lectures. You can do this…_

Question 28: In what year was the Shinra Electric Power Company founded, and what was its primary merchandise at this time?

Cloud blinked, pleasantly surprised. The teacher had droned on about Shinra's roots as a weapons company for about three hours last week. Cloud hesitated briefly, trying to match the proper date with the fact. It was always the numbers that killed him. Had that happened in 1930 or 1937? After he was certain he wasn't confusing the founding of the company with the discovery of mako energy, he wrote down his answer, careful to make the year legible so that there wouldn't be any doubt that he knew the answer.

_That one wasn't so bad._ Cloud allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief as he moved on to the next question.

Question 29: In what year was the first materia crystallized?

Cloud continued on through the remainder of the test, tentatively pleased that the majority of the questions weren't as hard as he had expected. He'd always been relatively good at rote memorization and recall questions. He hadn't expected himself to remember all of the dates like this, not after how boring some of those lectures could get. He was slightly hung up on the question of how many towns there were in the Midgar; unsure whether to answer seven, one, or none and say it was a city. However, overall, he felt surprisingly good about the whole thing when he closed the packet and finally was allowed to leave the room of suffering cadets.

A cursory glance at the clock dragged something else to the forefront of his mind, and all thoughts of the test he had just taken ceased to exist.

It was 3:45.

In fifteen minutes, he had to meet General Sephiroth.

Not for the first time since that morning, Cloud almost felt a little sick, like he did in a vehicle moving way too fast. He shouldn't be worried like this, he'd told Zack he wouldn't but, still, this was... How was he supposed to _be_ anything in the eyes of the general? How could Sephiroth look at him and see him at all? He didn't have the right to waste his _time_. He was just a little nobody from nowhere, who had lied about his age to get into the SOLDIER program and probably wouldn't even make the cut…!

His hands worried his bag nervously as he walked through the halls. He had to go there now. Sephiroth had specifically said for him not to be late. He _couldn't_ be late. He wouldn't. If there had been a behemoth in the way he would have walked trembling past it, maybe not even notice. But though his feet fumbled their way forward, dodging through the halls of men much bigger and stronger than he was, there was nothing he wanted more than to disappear.

Their meeting was scheduled in one of the small practice rooms, down three floors from the regular academy. Once the elevator doors closed him off from the eyes of everyone else in the hallways, Cloud raked a hand through his blonde spikes, eyes closed in anguish. What was he doing? He was a waste of the general's time! What was he supposed to say when he knew that already? 'Hello, my name is Cloud Strife, and I am pleased to meet you'? No! Unacceptable! He was so far beneath Sephiroth's notice!

Something shifted in his stomach, and Cloud bit his lip against a slight stirring of nausea in his throat. _No, not now… _Usually he could at least stand a elevator for a few minutes without completely losing the power to _maintain_ composure.

Not today.

As the elevator flew downwards, Cloud leaned against the wall, eyes closed, weakly fighting the dully pulsating headache that had somehow appeared behind his temples. His heartbeat pounded a steady rhythm in his ears. He silently counted each beat, trying to calm his nerves, trying to make the nausea go away.

No good. Gods, he couldn't even go down an elevator without clutching the wall for support! How was he ever going to make SOLDIER?

Usually, he would write off the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as a result only of the elevator's humming descent. But that was too easy.

It didn't uncurl when the ground under his feet was steady. Not a violent feeling of illness, but just a dizzy, stomach turning ache, a compliment to the pain that pulsated behind his eyes. Cloud took a deep breath, trying to keep a level head as he walked through the halls, looking for the correct door number.

There.

Taking a deep breath that failed miserably to calm the queasy feeling in his stomach, Cloud clenched a shaking hand into fists. He had to go. He had to.

What was he going to...?

It didn't matter. He was useless, hopeless, and a waste of Sephiroth's time, but he couldn't and wouldn't be late. That was something he could do, even if it was the only thing.

Though the action made something clench trembling inside his gut, Cloud forced himself to step forward, push open the door, and walk into the practice room.

* * *

Antsy. The word Angeal used to describe Genesis was antsy.

That word wasn't really in Sephiroth's vocabulary. Like so many others, it was something he had acquired secondhand, slang, not the usual, clinical terms he himself was taught. The closest thing he came to it was perhaps agitated.

But the word was frustratingly apt for this situation. Sephiroth would never admit it to himself, of course. He wasn't permitted to be agitated, to feel the insatiable need to pace about with the self-control of some green recruit. He was the general. He was in complete control of himself at all times. How else could the men trust him to make decisions? But the thoughts that cycled through him would not allow stillness.

For probably the fifth time in as many minutes, Sephiroth turned on his heel and walked the length of the room. He would never admit to himself he was pacing, else he would have to stop, and he couldn't. Not now. Try as he might, he couldn't think with clarity without releasing all this _energy_. It would almost be comical if it weren't so frightening, the esteemed SOLDIER general reduced to mindless pacing because he didn't know what to say to a child. A very unique, very confusing child, but a child nonetheless. He was filled with the restless, inexplicable need to _move_, to act, anything but stand still. His left hand was unconsciously running over Masamune's hilt over and over again.

What were they thinking, sending him a cadet? Him, of all people? Couldn't they understand the hundreds of negative consequences that could result from that action? He had thought through so many in the last minutes that it was only his hardwired discipline preventing professional panic. This wasn't some army recruit, or even an infantryman, not someone versed in his world, the world of warfare and fighting and soldier life. This was an outsider, who he had to teach to _survive_ in his world. He couldn't even _talk_ to most people about anything except fighting. How was he supposed to teach someone who didn't even speak his language, the only language he knew?

It was like saying, "Here, catch," and tossing him a kitten. Something that small could be crushed in his hands just trying to catch it before it hit the ground. His hands were used to handling a sword, not something that small and alive. He didn't want to harm something so fragile. What if he didn't catch the little thing correctly? What if he injured it by accident, did more harm than good? It was a frighteningly real possibility.

It was true he had the capacity for gentleness, to handle something carefully, but it was a second language. Angeal had taught him, shocked by the fact that Sephiroth hadn't known. But it was difficult, and oftentimes he was still uncertain how to interact on such a level. He was born to the harsh, detached life of a SOLDIER, that was where he belonged, and he couldn't leave. He stayed content behind his necessary mask, and kept everyone at arms length. That was the proper order of things. That was the only possible order of things.

And now this cadet...? What was he expected to do? He knew nothing of teaching. Angeal was the teacher, not him. He was just...a soldier. A hand for the company, a means to a specific end, deployed for a purpose by his superiors, and quickly and effectively completing his mission. That's what his entire background had prepared him for. The others had outside experience, ties to this alien concept of interpersonal relationships. He had nothing. Not even a single memory beyond Angeal and Genesis, and _that_ was nothing to base teaching on.

_It no longer matters,_ the pragmatic part of his mind spat, regarding his fear with disgust. _It's already done. The choice is no longer yours. You are the one acting childish._

The thought finally halted his wandering steps. Sephiroth took a deep breath, forcing his hand to release Masamune's hilt. It was the truth. He couldn't back out now, not when Cloud Strife depended on him. He couldn't let the boy down.

He'd have to try. He _would_ try.

Looking at the path he had just walked so many times, Sephiroth fought the sudden urge to laugh. _I really am acting like a child. Genesis would laugh if he saw me._

The thought almost made him smirk. If Genesis could survive five minutes with his cadet before losing his temper, Sephiroth could certainly beat that time in controlling his personal uncertainty.

_Alright, Angeal, alright. You win._ Of course, he would never tell him that. There would be no need.

The sound of the door stopped his thoughts short. It wasn't open yet, but he heard fingers brush against the metal.

Sephiroth swallowed, relegating his conflict to a back corner of his mind. And now he couldn't show fear, not in front of the cadet. Shiva's wrath, he wasn't afraid! Enough. He was a soldier. Challenges came, and he faced them. He knocked them down and defeated them.

Though common sense stated he should not actually do that with this problem.

The door slowly opened and Sephiroth turned to face it. A glance at the clock registered with momentary interest. Strife was exactly on time.

For the second time that day, Sephiroth took in the boy who hesitated uncertainly in the doorway. Strikingly blonde hair even wilder than he remembered and cautious, alert blue eyes. Strife saw Sephiroth regarding him and tried to snap to attention, but his stance was too tight with anxiety to do it well.

Though Strife met his eyes, it was clear he wanted to run. It seemed that since morning the truth had computed, and the cadet had realized who was standing before him now.

The recurrence of the morning's situation exasperated Sephiroth slightly. It wasn't that it was unexpected, it was simply unacceptable. This would not do. The last thing they needed was to stand here all day unable to speak. As the superior officer, it was his responsibility to begin...

Several different possibilities presented themselves, but the words that came out were spoken a little too softly for his liking. Still, it was always better for a warrior to be too quiet than too loud, right? "Well, come in, Strife."

Thankfully, it served its purpose. Strife nodded and carefully walked into the room. Sephiroth stayed where he was. For a moment, he was absurdly certain that if he moved he'd frighten the boy away. It was a throwback to his own childhood and he immediately knew it was ridiculous, but why couldn't he logically reject the instinct?

Cloud stood in the silence. He had been invited in, he knew, but he had no idea what was expected of him now. The quietness of Sephiroth's tone threw him off almost as much as _seeing_ him again did. The renewed understanding that he was trying to present himself to General Sephiroth, the most important man in SOLDIER, made his head swim, his gut coil.

_Just give you both a chance_. That's what Zack had said. And he had promised...

But how was he supposed to do that? He didn't even deserve whatever chance he already had, how could he-!

And already he was being rude by just standing there dumbly. _Come on, say something. S_ay _something! _Gods, if only he wasn't such a coward! Cloud took a deep breath, trying desperately to keep his voice even. "Good afternoon, sir..."

Sephiroth moved his head slightly; it may have been a nod, but Cloud couldn't quite tell, so he stayed where he was, waiting for direction. He didn't want to do something wrong in the first five minutes.

Sephiroth hesitated, until it occurred to him that the boy probably hadn't even seen his response to the greeting. Angeal had explained to him that he was very difficult to talk to, more because of his silence than anything else. Though Sephiroth didn't mind this arrangement, as often as not the barrier was inadvertent. It was instinct for him to conserve movement and only react slightly to what was said to him.

He reminded himself crossly that not everyone understood his warrior instincts, and especially not a boy like this. It was as if they were from completely different planes of existence.

"You are on time," he said carefully, dipping his head slightly more than usual in an attempt to convey approval. The sound of his own voice made him feel like a fool. What was he doing? Small talk was not his strength. Shiva, speech was not his strength! He had no training for this, no drills, nothing to tell him action or timing. But the boy had every right to know how much his punctuality was appreciated, how much it was necessary for Sephiroth that he arrive on time. Strife had fulfilled that expectation admirably, and so deserved due praise, as all soldiers did. Sephiroth just didn't know how to tell him. No simple nod would suffice here, not when they were one on one like this. Curses, why did this sort of thing seem so easy when he saw Angeal do it?

Cloud didn't move from his salute, as he hadn't been told to. "Yes, sir..." he answered quietly, unsure what else to say. He had made sure to be on time; who in their right mind wouldn't?

Sephiroth realized that the boy was holding his salute until told to move. "At ease, cadet," he said, inwardly chastising himself for not noticing sooner. That was both sloppy and inconsiderate. As the cadet marginally relaxed, Sephiroth restrained the urge to cock his head uncertainly. This was going to be difficult. Strife seemed under the impression that if he didn't follow every regulation perfectly he would be punished. What did they teach cadets in the academy?

The question brought a startling realization. Sephiroth did not know. He had never attended the military academy as an ordinary soldier.

So he had even less in common with this cadet. Lovely.

Still, Strife relaxed marginally as he dropped out of his tense salute, though the slight trembling didn't leave his hands. Sephiroth took that as a minor victory. At least the boy wouldn't tire himself out as quickly like that.

He didn't know what else to do. Though he had sworn he wouldn't let himself on their first day, Sephiroth slipped into the much more comfortable role of a briefing officer. Explain the mission. Maintain the morale of your troops. Prepare them for the field. Look them in the eye and tell them what they need to know. That he could do, so long as he ignored the fact that he was only addressing one man. "My task is to train you to be a SOLDIER. Your first lesson begins now."

Cloud looked up at Sephiroth's tone. Despite everything, the immovable resolve in the general's eyes obliterated any chance for self doubt at those words. He didn't dare look away or protest.

"Your name?" Sephiroth asked quietly, as the words of his sword-master years ago surfaced in his mind.

_Will you be a SOLDIER, boy?_

_Yes._

_Then tell me your name._

_Sephiroth._

_I will teach you, Sephiroth. I will make you a SOLDIER._

Strife blinked, surprised at the request. But when Sephiroth waited, the same steel in his eyes, Strife swallowed, taking a deep breath. Sephiroth waited, not daring to move. If the boy answered, if he really _answered_ the challenge, not just the question, Sephiroth would give his oath to see this through to the end. Show him a SOLDIER in that tiny frame and he would be convinced, his own doubts be cursed. If Strife possessed the potential, he deserved this chance, and so Sephiroth would make it happen.

_If_ the boy could do it. If the boy was brave enough to even try.

One long second, two, blue eyes staring wide-eyed at him, and then Strife swallowed once, and spoke. "Cloud Strife."

Sephiroth felt a thrill of approval as blue eyes met his, full of longing and fear, but looking into his eyes nonetheless. Strife did not look away. Yes. He could see the warrior looking at him in those eyes. Immature, unpolished, but certainly there. Strife was small and frightened, but when a challenge was placed before him, he did not back down.

Sephiroth did not know how to speak to others, how to teach anyone, how to understand the boy, but here was something he understood, had seen and experienced. He thought he saw some of a young Genesis' defiant courage in the cadet in front of him.

For the Goddess' sake, wasn't this boy standing in front of him, even despite all that trembling? What coward could do that? Of course, he knew the moment he moved or spoke Strife would realize he was overstepping of his lowly rank and retreat immediately. The boy's respect did him credit.

But it didn't matter. Because now he knew.

Sephiroth nodded firmly. "I will teach you to be a SOLDIER, Cloud Strife."

Cloud took a deep breath, staring up as Sephiroth met his eyes. For a long second, something in him couldn't help but believe. Odin, could he really…? There was nothing in the world Sephiroth couldn't do, after all, and when those eyes were on him he couldn't disagree...he couldn't even think of disagreeing. He couldn't even remember he _could_ disagree.

After that moment, though, Sephiroth blinked and glanced aside. The moment he did, Strife seemed to realize he had been staring and quickly looked down at the floor, trying to get his bearings, hands trembling as much as before. "Come on, let's begin," Sephiroth murmured as he turned towards the equipment room. The words were mere instinct, covering the confusion that was whirling in his mind.

Why had he said that? _That_, of all things. He hadn't thought of his sword-master in years. The only real teacher he'd ever had, the only one who entered a room with him as a child instead of tossing him to some simulation and coaching him over the PA system. Once he was gone, Sephiroth had purposely avoided the memory, because he couldn't bear that he'd never see the man again, and that he'd never learn anything he cared about more.

He'd thought so until he met Angeal, anyway.

So why had that memory surfaced now, with this cadet standing in front of him looking at him with uncertain and startlingly brave eyes? This situation was completely different. He was not going to become the most important part of this cadet's daily life for the next four years, practicing with him six hours a day. This cadet was not locked in a room with him because everyone else was too afraid to approach him. Strife was neither aggressive nor mistrustful, and knew already what was expected of him. This cadet had a reason to be here, and dreams of what he would learn, not simply empty dreams of empty rooms.

So why had he said what his master had once said to him? Why had he repeated near verbatim the promise made to himself as an angry child?

This was different. The nature of this relationship was different, too; he wouldn't shape Strife as profoundly as his master had shaped him. It was impossible for this boy to learn as much from him, Sephiroth, as that man had taught him. Beyond that, remembering how much he had depended on his master, Sephiroth was unsure if he could deal with the same dependency. He didn't feel qualified to teach Strife, even, let alone act as the emotional and spiritual guide that his sword master had been.

So then, all that being the case, why had something made him use that same promise?

Something about those eyes?

Seeing that Strife still held a satchel, Sephiroth distracted himself from such thoughts to address more pertinent issues. That was the second time today he had been blatantly inconsiderate, leaving the poor boy standing there with his baggage. What sort of a thing was that to do on day one? "You can put your things down," he said, nodding towards the wall by the door. A vague memory of a classroom surfaced, from when he had taught in a seminar, and he surmised Strife had brought the supplies in case of academic activities. "I won't make you take notes today."

In actuality, now that he thought about it, he'd have to figure out when exactly one did make a student take notes.

The cadet jumped, then nodded, murmuring a quick "yes, sir" before darting to put his things down. Sephiroth watched Strife discretely, trying to judge if he said anything wrong thus far. The boy seemed flustered by the long stare, and very grateful for a reason to move away, but that was not particularly unusual. Most lower ranks were hard pressed to be in the same room as him in squads, let alone one to one. Given the circumstances, Strife was actually doing better than expected.

Angeal said it was the aura of severity. Sephiroth had no idea what he was talking about. He was hardwired to perform his duties quickly and efficiently. There was no place for useless pleasantries. Did efficiency frighten people? What were they doing with the company, then?

Despite his obvious relief at the chance to turn away from Sephiroth for a bit, the cadet returned promptly and stood at attention. Strife didn't look up until he had to, but when he had to, he did so quickly and expectantly, albeit still uncertainly.

Sephiroth pulled out his pass key and offered it to the equipment room entrance. "This will be one of three places we meet," he explained as the door slid open. "All the equipment you will use is kept in this room." Glancing at his cadet in an attempt to judge his reaction, Sephiroth let the tone of his voice soften slightly as he asked the next question. "Have you been taught anything about weapon mechanics and maintenance?"

He was unsure what strange instinct made him speak softly, but he was grateful for it. Even as it was, Strife flushed and looked down as he shook his head. "No, sir."

Sephiroth blinked. Strife sounded like he was shirking his duties, like some sentry caught sleeping. Why? None of the fault was his. How could any student be expected to control the actions of his instructors? Strife was certainly smart enough to know he had no control over the situation at all. So why was he...? It didn't make sense.

Whatever the reason, Sephiroth decided he disliked it. "Well, then that must come first. This way."

Strife perked up and obediently followed Sephiroth into the equipment locker. Sephiroth let out a silent breath of relief as he led the way among the weapons racks. There had been the conspicuous absence of 'yes, sir' there. That was progress. It meant Strife was excited enough to forget some of his nervousness

Maybe he wasn't doing horrendously, then, strange as the idea was.

Uncertain how to react to his new blonde shadow, Sephiroth moved carefully among the different weapons racks, falling back on what he knew best. He indicated each different type of sword, gun, and other combat item, all the while watching Strife from the corner of his eye. The cadet took in everything with a curious expression, looking long and hard at the sword racks especially. Sephiroth saw Strife's fingers move slightly as he looked at the blades, almost as if he wanted to touch them, but of course the cadet refrained.

Sephiroth filed the detail away with interest. Was the boy more inclined to figure things out with his hands than his eyes?

He would have to test that when he got the chance. A warrior could never fully appreciate any situation until he had held felt it: either held it in his hands, pushed his own body through the motions, or pitted his strength against it. Instinctive reactions and understandings could only really be honed by experience, much as classroom learning was employed for other reasons. That was the reason he had been put through so many endless training sessions as a boy. Most cadets had to be taught that truth, Angeal had said once. They expected to study some text and suddenly be true SOLDIERs. But a select few knew already, almost by instinct, and couldn't wait to hold something in their hands.

Fair had been like that, so much so, in fact, that he'd had trouble learning any other way until Angeal began working with him. That energy and curiosity were what had drawn Angeal to him in the first place.

And so Strife, perhaps...? Though, to Sephiroth's relief, he did not seem to resemble Fair too much in that regard, judging by his ability to stand still.

The cadet paused, looking at something off to the side and Sephiroth glanced over to see what else had caught his attention. Strife was looking at a case of shining globes with both interest and respect.

_And so he at least has some idea about materia, as well. Interesting. Good tastes._

Sephiroth tried to make noise when he moved, but Strife still jumped when he walked around him and took a green orb from the box. The familiar tingling of mako traced along his fingers. "Materia. You won't be authorized to use it for a while." Turning back, he held it up for the cadet to see. Blue eyes followed the subtle designs on the materia's surface as Strife leaned forward, clearly interested. Sephiroth shifted it slightly in his hand so it was easier to see. "Have you learned how this is made?"

"Yes, sir," Cloud answered after a moment's hesitation. "Crystallization of mako." Gods he was glad for that question on the test; if it hadn't been fresh in his mind, he probably would've been trembling too hard to remember.

Sephiroth nodded. Then, making Strife jump, he extended his hand, offering the materia.

Strife stood frozen, staring at it for several seconds, before looking up at Sephiroth, confusion written all over his face. After a moment of hesitation, Sephiroth tried to explain. "You will not use it in combat, but it's never too early to learn. This, I believe, would be your first contact with mako in any form."

A question, but one he didn't need to ask. So he simply offered the materia, watching the cadet curiously.

Blinking, now looking deeply interested, Cloud reached out and carefully accepted the materia from Sephiroth. When the green globe touched his fingers he felt a strange tingling in his skin, making him jump so violently that for one horrible second he almost dropped it. But, thank the Gods, he managed to get both his hands around the orb and stare down at it instead of at Sephiroth.

The embarrassment that he had nearly dropped it distracted him from the strange tingling enough to stare at the orb in his hands. Instead of being cold and metallic like he had expected, it…was warm. Now that the tingling didn't startle him, it was almost pleasant, a sort of thrumming against his fingers, much softer than the pins-and-needles feeling he was used to. He wasn't quite sure, but he kind of liked the sensation. Even in the light of the room he could see a little bit of green light on his fingers from the materia. The soft glow was soothing, almost like the light of the fireflies from summertime back home.

"That is Curaga materia." Sephiroth's voice started him out of his thoughts, and Cloud jumped and looked up at him, nodding automatically before the statement processed. _Curaga…that's the healing one..._ He'd devoured a whole pamphlet on materia his first day here, since it was one of the most interesting things he'd heard about. SOLDIER aside, of course.

Sephiroth watched as Strife analyzed the materia in his hands. A first reaction to mako was always interesting. He had worried about startling Strife with that first touch, the feeling of mako tingling in one's veins, but he hadn't known what warning to give. Mako was such a strange substance, and he'd been exposed to it so many times... He had to admit he would probably scare the boy more than help, and so he'd remained silent. Though it still felt like neglecting his duties. Thankfully, Strife seemed able to take a slight shock, and had held onto the materia while acclimating himself to close contact with mako.

Sephiroth was pleased and thankful to see that. Adapting to startling events was a very important skill for a SOLDIER to possess.

He was also glad he had picked out a Curaga, instead of one of the other ones. Curgaga's aura was at least soothing after the initial surprise. Thundaga probably would have given poor Strife the static shock of his life, judging by how nasty the orbs had been to Sephiroth before he learned to guard against their aura.

Watching Strife turn the materia and look at it, Sephiroth was glad to notice the respect that the boy gave the materia, even upon knowing its name. That was good. Curaga may not be an attack, but it was still incredibly important. A multitude of memories tried to resurface and he methodically pushed them away. No need to burden the cadet yet with the myriads of scenarios where Curaga could be, _had been_ the difference between life and death. But he still felt that, as a teacher, he should indicate that importance somehow...

Shiva, there was too much to think about.

When Strife glanced hesitantly up at him, Sephiroth nodded slightly. "Remember that sensation. There will come a day when that materia is of vital importance to you."

Cloud blinked, glancing down at the warm green orb in his hand. Then the full implications of the statement hit him, and he swallowed, nodding solemnly. "Yes, sir," he said softly, fingers tightening slightly on the materia. Yes. That's what Mr. Lockheart had said when old Adda had died. If they'd had materia, maybe they could've saved her. Maybe…

The tingling sensation seemed to grow stronger as he held onto the Curaga materia tighter. Cloud bit his lip, trying to look up at Sephiroth. He had to look him the eye. He _had_ to be braver, be stronger. Because…

_That's why I want to do this, Ma…so next time I _can _do something_…_not just be useless. Because…_

Sephiroth paused, looking at the cadet. Strife's eyes...he'd never seen them this serious. Not even when he had first promised to be on time, when he had seemed beyond even thinking of the alternative. Not even when Sephiroth had promised to teach him. The cadet...

Strife understood, at least somewhat, what he had said. Actually understood it. This cadet had not only heard what Sephiroth had said, but responded to it not with anxiety and dismissal, but with composed solemnity. What was…?

Sephiroth struggled to hide his surprise. He hadn't...he hadn't expected Strife to accept the statement so seriously. Hadn't Genesis said that dealing with his manner was…extremely difficult, especially about such things as this? When he talked about what he knew, the death, the war, the fighting, people always shied away, even if he just barely mentioned it. Something about the way he spoke about it made it impossible for most to cope. Even Angeal had been unable to, for a while, without staring at him.

And yet the boy had caught at least some of it. He hadn't seen Sephiroth's memories, of course, but he understood their meaning. And, beyond that, he had taken a potentially disconcerting topic, of greater severity than Sephiroth had intended to bring up at all, and accepted it calmly. Accepted it seriously. Accepted it with the solemnity of a warrior.

And at _definitely_ younger than 18, probably only 15 years old?

Intriguing, and disconcerting. What had kind of a boy was this? What could possibly have given Strife this understanding?

Much as he wanted ask…something, he was thwarted by the fact that he did not know what to say, what he even wanted the answer to. How could…?

He could only form one coherent question. How many times already had Cloud Strife surprised him? He had never expected…

Instincts screamed he was staring, and he had to move on to get his bearings, to get time to process all these new questions. He was floundering, too confused by that seriousness, he had to keep going. Someday he would discover where it came from. But not be today. He'd have to wait until he had a full data set to analyze, and then he could begin to wrestle with his questions. "After you put that away, wait at the table by the door. I will return momentarily," he said, nodding a little to demonstrate permission to move about before swiftly turning away.

As Strife hurriedly gave another "yes, sir" and turned to carry out his orders, Sephiroth walked back through the equipment areas, picking out several items he had scouted out earlier. He had, after all, said he would teach the boy about the weapons. He would not allow himself to disappoint Strife on their first day. The planned action, also, allowed him to school his thoughts into their proper order. He had promised Strife. He had promised. So he would have to save his questions.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Strife very carefully return the materia to its proper place, watching it reverently. He easily avoided touching the other orbs because of his small hands. Without realizing it, Sephiroth breathed out slightly with relief. Well done. Strife had not been unnecessarily shocked by a charged thunder materia. He chastised himself for not saying something about the possibility. It was just second nature to assume those around him understood the hazards of poking a Thundaga or a Firaga. Even 3rds knew something that basic. He'd have to remember to warn the cadet next time they handled materia.

Also, he had been distracted, but that was no excuse.

The focused part of him wondered if it might be a good idea to write up a mission report for himself later to remember all the things he should do better next time. Was that strange? He'd have to ask Angeal.

Strife was already standing expectantly by the processing table in the front when Sephiroth emerged from the weapons racks, carrying his chosen arsenal with him. Blue eyes watched him very closely as he deposited several items on the edge of the table, each accompanied by a flash of metal and a very solid clunk. Sephiroth could acutely feel the cadet's focus following his hands, and he could nearly taste the mixture of intense interest and wariness in the air. The weapons seemed to have distracted the cadet from whatever had made his eyes so serious before.

The wariness puzzled him still, however. He could not remember ever meeting someone quite as wary as Strife was at such a young age. It was remarkable, and confusing. What made someone like that? He had no experience with such a thing.

He could also see that standing across from him, with no buffer of distracting materia or heavy memories between them, had brought Strife's nervousness back full force. Though the cadet tried to hide it, his hands were trembling again from sheer stress.

Sephiroth hesitated for a moment, trying to understand. Was it the proximity to the weapons making him nervous again…? After all, by the materia, Strife had been barely nervous at all, instead curious enough to actually look around. Or was it proximity to him? Was he the reason? He wasn't sure. Both were entirely viable reasons for cadets like Strife.

He disliked either option. Better try to change both, then.

Somehow.

Weapons were easy. They were mere tools, harmless on their own. Teach Strife to use them, understand them, and any nervousness would be erased by familiarity.

The other one he wasn't so sure how to combat. This wasn't some simple obstacle for him to take down with his hands, nothing like that at all. He knew very well how to intimidate others, but when he wasn't trying, he really had no practice...acting approachable.

How did Angeal pull it off?

Casting around uncertainly for something to try, Sephiroth settled on a memory. Angeal, calming a civilian during an extraction mission in Wutai. Panic was understandable under the circumstances, but problematic. So Angeal had sat down next to the man almost immediately upon arrival, talking to him until they left. It had worked wonders.

Sephiroth had been confused. Angeal had not said anything particularly gentle; they had been in the middle of a war zone, after all. There wasn't that much to say without flat out lying. He had not made any particularly reassuring gestures that Sephiroth had noticed beyond simply staying nearby. And yet the man had calmed significantly. Sephiroth admitted openly he never could have done it.

Which, of course, Angeal would have none of. "Of course you could," he had retorted with smile. "Just sit down with them. Go down to their level, so they don't have to look up. Works every time, you'll see."

Sephiroth found it hard to believe that a change of position could affect people so immensely, but he was willing to try. Angeal did know vastly more about this than he could ever hope to learn. And now he really wanted Strife to be…

What?

To not be afraid. That was it. He didn't want to be the source of the cadet's apprehension. He wanted Strife to know that he wouldn't…that he wasn't like that. That there was nothing to worry about. That he intended to do his best here, to teach him everything he could, and to be fair. Especially be fair.

So he was willing to try this.

Rather than wonder at the layer of formality he was dropping, or let his inner debate talk him out of lowering his guard even slightly to a stranger, Sephiroth nodded towards the table as he chose a chair and deposited Masamune sheathed on the back. "Sit down, Strife."

As Strife stared at him, Sephiroth seated himself smoothly, carefully watching the boy only from the corner of his eye, so as not to disconcert him further. It felt surprisingly good to sit down. Informality was unacceptable when addressing classes of cadets, units of infantry, or the other SOLDIER operatives beneath his rank. So dictated the rigid military discipline that defined his relationships with others. He seldom had the desire to venture beyond that framework.

Had he allowed his actions to fully process, he probably would have been panicked at stepping out of that rigid boundary, but he didn't allow the information to penetrate that far. Instead he found himself waiting uncertainty to see how Strife would react. He had never done this before, so if he was going to try, it had better be now, when the cadet needed reassurance.

For a brief silence, Strife openly stared at him, and Sephiroth restrained a smile at the look on the cadet's face. If he hadn't known better, he would have guessed he had sprouted some kind of extra appendage. Really, it was sort of depressing that it was so world shattering to see him sit down.

He still had no idea if the move had worked, or not. It took restraint to be patient, and not listen to his misgivings.

Trying to spare the poor cadet further shock for the time being, Sephiroth inclined his head slightly, carefully keeping his eyes averted from the boy. At the movement, as he had hoped, Strife realized he was ostensibly disobeying a direct order from General Sephiroth, and slipped into a seat as fast as he could, nearly tripping himself in the process. Sephiroth pretended not to notice as the boy visibly reddened at his clumsiness.

He wanted to tell Strife that it was perfectly understandable and acceptable, and he really didn't have to worry. That he would not judge him for something like that. But he couldn't figure out how to phrase it, and so dismissed the attempt. It made him feel inadequate just trying.

Gods this was too hard. He settled to hope that someday, if he worked hard enough, the cadet would be able to stand his presence without nearly tripping and hurting himself.

Unlikely.

Strife was looking at him with those half-frightened, brightly expectant eyes again. Sephiroth set his thoughts to the task at hand, and forced himself to speak.

"The basis of understanding combat is understanding your weapon, and that of your opponent." He tilted his head to indicate the weapons on the table, before remembering to clarify his gesture. "These are the most important weapons you will be exposed to at Shinra."

He reached out to select the first he wished to show the boy, an infantryman's rifle, when something made him pause. Strife's eyes had followed his hand immediately, as tended to happen when cadets were distracted from his face. When they found the proffered weapon, however, part of that expectation suddenly dulled from blue eyes, as if something had saddened the cadet.

Sephiroth froze, watching the expression with something that was shamefully close to panic. What had he done? He hadn't said anything wrong, had he...? Quickly, he ran back over his last statement, but found nothing. Fighting, but if that was a problem, he hardly believed the boy would even have come to Midgar...

He didn't know what was wrong, or what he had done. And, worst of all, he didn't know how to ask. Generals of the army simply did not ask "what is wrong?" to cadets. He'd never get an answer! No one had ever told him how...

His tongue was dry, but he forced himself to speak, to _say_ something. "Strife...you seem ill, are you alright?" As soon as it was out of his mouth, he regretted it. It wasn't an entirely blatant lie, the boy was nearly as pale as Sephiroth himself was, and that certainly was not natural for someone who had grown up outside, but it still wasn't honest, and Sephiroth hated lies.

Strife jumped at the sudden question, his eyes snapping back to Sephiroth, and the expression there was almost one of fear, as if he hadn't realized his change in expression had been seen. Nodding mutely, the cadet immediately looked down at the table, paling even further.

Sephiroth bit down on his lip to keep himself from wincing. Well, that had failed spectacularly. He had only managed to embarrass the cadet. Wonderful. But something was obviously wrong, and he was even more convinced it had something to do with his own behavior. If he could just find out what it was, he could avoid it in the future, but how could he…?

Strife's eyes were very avidly studying the nonexistent grain on the plastic table as the cadet bit his lip, waiting for something to happen.

Sephiroth cocked his head, pondering what to do. He had to…he didn't know how to do this! "Strife?"

His own tone sounded startlingly soft, and he waited frozen, counting breaths as the seconds passed. Goddess, let the boy answer.

Taking a deep breath, the cadet clenched a fist under the table and looked up. His blue eyes were _so_ easy to read it was frightening, filled with shame and apprehension, and still disappointment that Sephiroth didn't understand. "Yes, sir?"

Sephiroth analyzed those eyes for a moment more, trying to _find _what was wrong. He had to understand where that had come from!

It was only belatedly that he processed the way Strife was biting his lower lip, and the discomfort written plainly on the cadet's face. Sephiroth abruptly blinked, scolding himself vehemently. _Idiot, how could you possibly forget the power of your eyes like that!_ Without even noticing, he had been scrutinizing the boy, keeping him from looking away. He had sworn not to do that, he knew better! There were only about four people alive who were immune to his eyes, and this boy was certainly not one of them. And yet he had…

But he had to know. He had to know why. He couldn't…

He couldn't stand to see Strife act like this for something he did, and not try to change it.

_I'm…sorry. Strife, I'm sorry. Tell me what I did…_

It would never come out of his mouth, though. It never could.

Looking away slightly, to spare Strife any further scrutiny, Sephiroth sighed softly. "My…apologies, I…have failed to lay some ground rules."

Cloud jumped, startled so much that he completely forgot he had been avoiding the general's eyes. Sephiroth had apologized? Sephiroth had _apologized_ to him! To _him,_ Cloud Strife? What?

The general did _not_ apologize! And especially not to the likes of him!

"First among these rules, and one you must always remember, is this," Sephiroth said softly, glancing back at the cadet carefully, not straight on, but with his head slightly tilted, to diminish, as much as he could, the power of his gaze. This was, as far as he knew, one of the more effective ways, since it changed the angle and was less directly focused.

Or something like that. Genesis had told him. Strife seemed to be hearing him, at least. That was good.

"I am here to teach you," he said solemnly, watching Strife carefully. "To do that to the best of my ability, I have to know…what you don't know. So, if you ever have a question, if you ever are curious about something, you may ask me anything, and I will listen."

The statement was slightly frightening. He wasn't used to blank slates like this. But, somehow, saying that felt right. How many times as a child had he wished someone was there just for him to ask _why?_ He had been permitted precious few questions, and fewer answers. What better to do than to give Strife what he knew he had wanted. If he didn't understand anything else, at least he had personal experience with this idea...

He needed to give Strife something, some understanding that he could tell him what he needed. Tell him what was wrong. And this was the only way he knew to…

And, nerve wracking as it was, the effect on blue eyes was gratifying. As the surprise faded, so did the disappointment, replaced by wary...something? Like the anticipation from before, slightly warmer, slightly softer, and equal parts nervousness and shy...something else. Was that possibly gratitude? If so, why was it there? He had only given what he thought he himself would want. What was there to be thankful in that?

Strife took a breath, and Sephiroth stopped wondering, waiting tensely. Would he actually address that problem, whatever it was?

In order to better speak, the cadet looked away from Sephiroth, towards the gun on which Sephiroth still rested a hand. Sephiroth didn't mind, instead watching curiously. "Those aren't all...SOLDIER weapons, are they sir?" Strife asked softly, his voice straying towards a mutter, but stubbornly held above it, even though a few times it wavered.

Sephiroth blinked, seeing the way blue eyes settled on the infantry rifle in particular. The tone of voice was there, disappointment again, buried behind the innocent question. Was _that_ what had...? The rifle, not him?

He hadn't felt this relieved in a long time. It wasn't something he had done. Strife wasn't disappointed or hurt by something he'd said.

But…why the rifle?

There weren't a great many possible problems with a rifle, were there? There was combat, which he had already considered a potential problem earlier, and dismissed. But this second occurrence could indicate a viable problem, and one he would have to deal with as soon as possible. A SOLDIER cadet had to be prepared for combat, even before they entered the program. But that he could deal with...

Perhaps it was guns? Over his career, Sephiroth had learned that nearly every warrior had aversions, acquired or natural, to certain weapons. Even he himself had a few, though carefully controlled. Usually it was from some childhood memory linked with the object, or a more immediate psychological scar from some wartime event. Strife was far to young for the latter, but certainly smart enough to have an aversion to projectile weapons. But, no, something like that would hopefully have been written in his file, and Sephiroth had not seen it in three readings of all those papers.

So then, what?

Something made him almost dismiss the gun aversion, simply by the fact that the boy was sitting in front of him, and hadn't reacted until he had reached for the weapon, not before. Still, he wouldn't dismiss it until it was disproved conclusively.

The same instinct, though, drove him to glance over the rifle again. And the cursory glance came to rest on the infantry insignia, not nearly as familiar to him as the comfortable SOLDIER symbol which rested heavily on his sword harness.

Wait, could that be it? Such a trivial thing, but perhaps? Could it be that the boy was distressed by the fact that this was an infantry rifle Sephiroth wanted to show him?

Considering the possibility, Sephiroth tried to compare it to what little he knew about the cadet. Sadly, he really didn't have much to go on. Only that he had already seen that Strife reflected very intensely on what occurred around him, considering his responses carefully before acting, even in trivial matters. Such behavior often indicated a very observant, methodical personality, and could also indicate a high level of self consciousness and uncertainty. Such careful consideration could come from the fear of being wrong. And the boy did seem very afraid of making a mistake and being judged for it.

This was all hypothetical, and Sephiroth intensely disliked making assumptions without evidence. Normally he would have backed off the moment he ran out of concrete examples. But this conclusion made sense. This, at least in his experience, was the developmental coping strategy of a child who felt he could never misstep. He himself had been like that, a long time ago, always afraid to act incase he was punished for it.

But it was stupid to think that this cadet's mind could follow the same pathways as his. Sephiroth knew better than to think that he could understand the thoughts of others, when they came from such drastically different backgrounds. What did he know about Strife's home, about the family he came from, about the childhood he'd lived? Nothing. To make wild assumptions was foolish.

Strife was still looking at him, head ducked down with that mixture of wariness and anxiety that was gradually becoming familiar. And that, regardless of everything else, was unacceptable. Sephiroth decided that finding the actual problem right now was not top priority.

Wiping that unhappy look from the cadet's face was.

Holding his breath, Sephiroth leveled his eyes at the cadet. He didn't want to startle him, but he needed to make it clear that, whatever the reason for Strife's discomfort, it was unfounded. If he could. This was not alright. And he would not let himself tell the truth without looking him in the eye. No, what little he understood was very clear. Look them in the eye if you want to tell the truth, or else they won't believe you.

"No, they are not." The truthful answer made Strife's eyes darken slightly, reinforcing the notion that the undesired emotion was tied up with the rifle, but not giving any hint why.

Cloud stared into Sephiroth's eyes, unable to look away even as something inside him seemed to start shaking again. The words were expected; he knew the answer before asking, but he barely heard it. Sephiroth had looked at him squarely, and that had been more than enough to stop all coherent thought. Gods, why couldn't he even look him in the eye, act like he was paying proper respect when addressed! Shame would have made him curl into a tiny ball if he'd been able to move.

But he had to look at Sephiroth. He had promised that he'd try, and he couldn't stand himself if he chickened out now. What would Sephiroth think of that? What would his mom think of that? What was he if he couldn't do that!

Zack had said it would be alright, and he'd promised Zack... And Zack really did know what he was doing, right? He was a 2nd class already. What would Zack do?

Zack had said once that your commanding officers liked it when you looked at them if they looked at you. Something about seeing them and showing you were able to respect and hear them as they wanted to be heard. That you really listened to what they said.

Zack would look Sephiroth in the eye. Much as the thought terrified him, Cloud knew it was true. And so, pretending to be Zack, Cloud did exactly that, not letting himself look away.

And Sephiroth's expression, now that he had the courage to look at it, was almost...encouraging? It didn't make any sense, why would it seem that way, but it was almost… There was no disdain there, at least none he could see. Rumors of Sephiroth's emotionless expression abounded, but now, when Cloud looked, they weren't really true. There was determination in the general's eyes, firm and immovable, but it wasn't directed _at_ him, and the expression wasn't hard or cold. In fact, the general's eyes were surprisingly serene and calm. He almost felt reassured when the general looked at him like that. Almost like this was all ok…

But, still, the rifle was...

Sephiroth took a soft breath, and lifted his head slightly, the determination in his eyes solidifying into something warm and strong. Cloud stared, for some reason holding his breath. Just then, he knew he would listen to anything the general told him. Anything Sephiroth said would happen, just as he wanted it. Cloud had no doubt, not when those eyes were on him like this.

Sephiroth nodded slightly, never taking his eyes off Cloud's. "However, while I am your mentor, you will learn to use as many weapons as I can arrange."

Strife's hands stopped fidgeting, and he looked up with slightly widened eyes at the words. Sephiroth waited uncertainly for the cadet's reaction. He had said such things before, in reassurance to groups of soldiers under his command. As long as you are my men. He meant them every time, as he meant this. But this felt different. This was to a single cadet. And this time it wasn't "you are beneath my command, you are my soldier." He was the cadet's mentor. Strife had the right to expect something from him, not the other way around. The boy was depending on him.

This time it was "_I_ am _your _mentor."

That was why he hadn't given into the urge to break eye contact yet, strong though it was. He had to see that the boy understood what that meant. At least in some way.

In the back of his mind, something was twisted uncertainly. Heck, he didn't even quite know what that meant. Only what he felt like he needed to do. But that fact, along with all other extraneous information, was filed away to be acknowledge later. Right now he waited for Strife.

Something fluttering and warm curled in Cloud's stomach as he stared up at the general sitting across from him. He could feel himself staring, but he couldn't stop, looking back at those green eyes that had somehow stopped crushing him.

_As long as I am your mentor._ _I _am_ your mentor._ He had said it! Sephiroth had said it! And it had even almost been with...conviction, determination! Cloud latched onto those words, feeling giddy, dizzy butterflies run wild in his stomach.

Sephiroth was his mentor. General Sephiroth was his mentor, and he wasn't...he didn't see him as useless, he didn't...

Somehow, impossibly, through some trick of Odin, Sephiroth didn't sound unhappy about it. Heck, the general almost sounded...pleased! How could that be possible?

Even though something in him was still shaking, Cloud felt a small, uncertain smile cross his face. Swallowing shakily, he nodded, trying to find his tongue for long seconds. Somehow, even though just a look had overwhelmed him a second ago, he couldn't bring himself to break gaze with Sephiroth, as if seeing his mentor looking at him, actually _looking_, finally affirmed everything he had been afraid to hope for. He hadn't been this happy since leaving home...

The infantry rifle hadn't been because he was worthless. Sephiroth was going to teach him. And…and…and so it was all ok, then… He could..

Swallowing unsteadily, Cloud forced the thought to process. _General Sephiroth...is my mentor. _It felt...good. It felt strong, reassuringly stable, like the calm eyes that he found himself staring into. Feeling something dance in his gut, he tried it again. _General Sephiroth is my mentor._

He wanted to grin like a little kid. General Sephiroth was going to teach him to be a SOLDIER! The fluttering warmth in his stomach shot through his entire body, making his hands quiver with energy instead of fear as before. Cloud nodded again, letting his smile widen mutely. Finally, he managed to find his voice. "O-ok."

The relief and excitement were so overpowering that he couldn't even feel horrified that his voice squeaked.

Sephiroth nearly openly stared when Strife's eyes brightened. Shiva, the boy seemed two years younger when he was happy, barely 15! The transformation was incredible.

And then Strife smiled.

It was a tiny smile, as smiles went, and it was lopsided, uncertain, and tentative. Most of it wasn't even really in his expression, but rather in the bright openness that came into his eyes, replacing some of the stress that had been there before. But, still, it was recognizably a smile.

Sephiroth's emotions at that point were a wild tangle, the most recognizable part of which was blank shock. He had made Strife _smile!_

How was that even remotely possible? Hadn't he already established that proximity to him made the cadet uncomfortable? Hadn't he already clearly unsettled the boy at least four times in the last half hour? And still he had managed to make him smile?

His automatic reaction, stupid, but unavoidable, was denial. No, it couldn't...there must be some mistake. There must be some other reason…

But, disbelief or not it was plainly in front of him. And the disappointment was gone from the cadet's eyes. Sephiroth fixed Strife's expression in his mind, so that he would remember that he could actually cause that smile, though he wasn't quite sure how. The cadet was...happy?

He had made Strife...happy?

But he was Sephiroth... He shouldn't be able to _do_ that. He was blunt, severe, imposing, and...and, Shiva help him, socially inept to the point of complete uselessness! It had taken him a full two years to feel comfortable in personal conversation with Angeal, even longer to avoid offending Genesis without thinking. He _knew_ that. The only reason most of his men could interact with him was they didn't know what he was like without rigid military framework to determine his actions. This was the first time he reached beyond the military script with a lower officer, speaking without knowing what to do. How could he possibly...?

But Strife was smiling that small, crooked smile up at him, eyes bright and expectant. And Sephiroth found that he liked it. He liked it a great deal.

He didn't even try to restrain the reciprocal smile he felt in his eyes, couldn't have if he'd wanted to. Sephiroth stared at the cadet smiling at him, baffled by the way all his endless uncertainties disappeared at seeing his student happy and excited. _Gods, Angeal, I don't understand...is this what you meant? When you said Fair was worth every trouble he causes you? _That smile, why did it calm him so easily? Why did it make all his questions, still present and persistent, entirely unimportant?

He wanted to sate the eager desire in Strife's eyes, the youthful excitement he was sure he had never felt. It was there, reflected in those incredibly blue eyes. Strife _wanted_ to learn, wanted it fiercely. Sephiroth wanted to give him that.

Almost dazedly, Sephiroth cautiously tested the uncertain thought. Maybe, that being the case...he really could be a good choice for the boy?

Not if he sat here staring, and didn't actually impart any knowledge, his logical side retorted crossly, annoyed as always by Sephiroth's emotions distracting him from the mission. Namely, he had a promise to uphold to the cadet who was waiting expectantly.

Trying to hide his confusion, Sephiroth turned his gaze towards the rifle as he moved it across the table, trying to get his bearings. What had he been planning to say?

_Oh, come on. Basic briefing. You can do that, can't you?_

_Yes, Genesis, I _can.

Strangely enough, his friend's old challenge did allow him to set himself; it at least was something he understood completely. Shaking himself out of his reverie, pushing the confused emotions aside to analyze later, Sephiroth focused on the matter at hand. "This is an assault rifle. Three to five bullets per shot, good accuracy. Standard issue for the Shinra Infantry."

Strife leaned forward, eagerly taking in the components Sephiroth pointed out. Sephiroth was pleased to see that, now that the unidentified problem had been resolved, the cadet was keenly interested in what he was told, following Sephiroth's hands closely with his eyes as Sephiroth pantomimed the proper disassembly and assembly of the weapon. The respect in the cadet's eyes at the swiftness of the action was slightly amusing.

He idly wondered how long it would take for Strife to match him. Two months? Three? The thought made a smile try to cross his face, which he carefully restrained.

When he offered it for Strife to touch, the boy hesitated, but after Sephiroth explained how the safety worked, and assured him it was indeed active, Strife gingerly set his fingers against the barrel. After it didn't jump out at him, he carefully traced the grooves in the gun, the places where the parts disengaged, and the mouth of the barrel where the bullet exited. Sephiroth watched, interested, as Strife tentatively acquainted himself with the weapon. Strife seemed hesitant to touch the gun with more than just his fingertips.

Which was understandable. Sephiroth didn't blame him. Even he had been frightened the first time, if dim memory served. Strife's caution was a virtue in a SOLDIER's world.

As Sephiroth moved from rifle to pistol to shuriken and onwards, Strife accepted each new weapon with the same careful attention, listening raptly to Sephiroth's explanations. The shock stick seemed to fascinate Strife, and he spent the most time fiddling with it, though he shied away momentarily when Sephiroth explained its function. The shuriken Strife hadn't even known how to pick up, so Sephiroth made sure to lift it during his demonstration, so that the boy wouldn't have to ask.

He still didn't expect that Strife felt comfortable enough to ask him all of his questions. Sephiroth knew for a fact that he wouldn't after a half-hour with a stranger.

Strife listened carefully to everything Sephiroth told him, meeting every new piece of information with the same expectant expression, but it was no surprise that he really perked up when Sephiroth finally took out the SOLDIER sword. Sephiroth knew that his own bias was evident; the sword's introduction was clearly longer than that of the other weapons. Still, that was perfectly legitimate, he rationalized. This was, after all, the weapon that was going to become Strife's best friend in his chosen path of life.

"The SOLDIER sword is double-bladed," he explained, running a hand along the familiar ridge down the center of the metal. It was cold to the touch, smooth. He was slightly alienated from the standard issue blade, having Masamune, but that did not mean there wasn't a certain sense of security to the original sword he had been given. Much like the sense of security from the heavy SOLDIER insignia on his belt.

Strife was watching his hand closely, and Sephiroth sensed that the boy was itching to touch the sword for himself. It was selfish of him to make the cadet wait, when he had known this blade for years. Releasing the familiar hilt, Sephiroth set the sword on the table in front of Strife, nodding slightly to give permission. "Don't touch the sides."

Strife's eyes brightened with awe and excitement as he looked at the weapon placed before him. His hesitation lasted only a moment before he reached out a hand and, gently, reverently, touched the blade.

Sephiroth watched, intrigued, as Strife first met the sword. He saw the way the cadet's blue eyes followed the blade's entire length, the considering way Strife first touched the cloth wrapping the blade's hilt. Instinctively, Sephiroth's palm itched for the solid feel of Masamune's hilt, and General wondered at himself silently. Was just watching really enough to make him need the weight of a blade?

He'd never been able to just...watch someone else experience the things that were integral to his own being. And, more than that, this was Strife's first time with a blade. The sensation that was new to him was practically hard wired into Sephiroth's hands. It was truly strange.

He couldn't remember the first time he had touched the hilt of a sword. Could it have been with the same reverence and fascination as Strife tested the feel of the hilt against his hand now?

Strife cocked his head, tentatively wrapping his fingers around the hilt. Then, as if realizing what he had tried to do, he froze and glanced up at Sephiroth, eyes slightly worried again.

Sephiroth blinked, before realizing it was a request for permission. Letting his eyes soften, he nodded slightly, cocking his head. _Go ahead._

Smiling, Strife barely hesitated before closing his hand around the hilt of the sword. His grip was in the wrong place, a bit too low, and angled wrong, but it was strong nonetheless. Uncertainly, he tried to lift the blade, overbalanced slightly at the weight, and had the stabilize it with his other hand. Though the clumsy handling made Strife swallow uncertainly, the captivated expression on his face didn't fade.

Sephiroth watched carefully, automatically noting ten things he resolved to improve in the boy's grip. But he didn't mention any of them. Strife was far too distracted staring at the sword in his hand, and Sephiroth did not want to startle him. This was a sacred moment, as his sword master had said. Let the boy have this first time holding a sword in his hands.

He thought he could see it there, as Strife shifted a little. That little bit of surprise and adjustment at the extra weight at the end of his arms, the sudden extension of his reach, the sensation of the tip of the blade so far out in space. Instinctively, he felt Masamune's movement in his empty fingers, the altered balance of his left hand that made it feel as though he were a bird suddenly spreading a wing to its full extent, feeling his true reach.

He had no idea if Strife could feel that, that sudden change and newfound freedom. Odds were the cadet could not, having only just met the sword. It was only through years of close contact that Sephiroth had begun to feel Masamune as an extension of himself, another limb, an integral part of his own entity.

Part of him hesitated uncertainly as he wondered how in the world he could ever teach _that_ to the boy.

But the look on Strife's face, as he awkwardly held the SOLDIER sword in two hands, almost made Sephiroth hope. Maybe…Strife could feel something.

It also made up his mind on an idea he had been toying with for several minutes now. Something made him wonder just what would happen. It seemed like something that a mentor should do, and Masamune simply would not leave his thoughts.

"Strife, put that down," he instructed quietly, keeping his voice soft. The last thing he wanted to do was startle the cadet when thus far had gone so much better than he had expected.

Thankfully, Strife only seemed mildly startled by the words, pulled out of his reflection on the sword held awkwardly in his hands. Once reminded, however, he lowered it down quickly, as if only just now realizing it was heavy. The loud clack of its impact made him jump, but Strife recovered admirably and glanced at Sephiroth with wide, alert eyes, head cocked slightly to one side in a question.

Sephiroth carefully slid the SOLDIER sword out of the way, meeting Strife's eyes. "I have one more thing to show you."

Strife glanced at the empty space where the pile of weapons had been, then back at Sephiroth, a slightly puzzled expression on his face.

Sephiroth stood, turning to where his sword waited patiently slung on the back of his chair. The steady weight in his hand was a near physical relief after watching Strife's introduction to a sword. Shiva, it was like the sword had been _keening_ for him. Allowing himself a slight, brief smile, Sephiroth pivoted and drew his blade, for seconds allowing all the stress and uncertainty to release in the smooth motion of Masamune. No matter what else rocked his world, no matter how confused he became, here was something he understood.

The motion only lasted seconds, but nevertheless, when he refocused on his purpose, he was calm, centered. If Strife was to meet him, as was the purpose of this first appointment, what better to show the boy than his sword? If he could say nothing else, at the very least Sephiroth could let Strife see that part of himself, couldn't he? Carefully turning the blade, easily controlling its movements, Sephiroth turned to face Strife, holding Masamune's blade horizontally before him.

The blade reflected in Strife's wide eyes as he stared, seeming transfixed by the sword. Sephiroth could see the cadet's eyes move along the steel, tracing the slight wave in shine where the forging had cast the sweep of the blade.

Perhaps, someday, he would teach the cadet why that wave was present, how the katana was forged into a near unbreakable weapon, how Masamune's hilt was inlaid, what the symbols meant, the letters carved inside the guard, the meaning of the cloth wrapping the hilt. There was so much of his soul in this blade it was impossible to explain. He was far from ready to bare his soul like that, the thought nearly made him flinch. Not even Genesis knew all of it yet. But there was no hurry. Here and now, this was enough. Masamune was him, a part of him. He would not explain, only offer the cadet the chance, as the boy deserved. Strife could look at him if he wished, through the sword.

Sephiroth _wanted_ him to see it.

It was not lightly that Sephiroth unsheathed his blade, not for anyone. He hoped Strife would understand that. Angeal had, and Genesis, once upon a time.

Strangely, some instinct made him think Strife...could understand, perhaps.

Very carefully, very gently, Sephiroth lowered Masamune to the table. "As you know, the standard issue blade is only one option for higher members of SOLDIER," he said, lightly brushing the hilt and tang with his fingers, ensuring nothing was loose or out of place. Then, forcing himself to draw back his hand, he looked up at Strife. "This is my sword."

It was a silly thing, but he suddenly felt nervous. Would Strife see it…would he be able to look at Masamune as Sephiroth did? It was terrible to show his sword to someone who did not appreciate it, almost like a blow to a belief. He hoped fervently that Strife would see…or at least feel…

This sword was _him_ in the eyes of hundreds…and yet so many of them couldn't even see it for what it was. Was he just setting himself up, letting this cadet…?

For a full second, Strife stared at the blade, giving no indication that he'd heard Sephiroth at all. Only after Sephiroth cocked his head a little did Strife finally meet his eyes, with the same wide eyed awe on his face.

Cloud nodded, still unable to found his tongue. _I know..._ There couldn't be anyone within miles of Midgar who didn't know, who couldn't recognize Masamune on sight. Cloud had known the name of this sword since he was seven years old. But he couldn't say it, couldn't say anything. The words caught in his throat, frozen by the fact that Sephiroth was _letting_ him near his _sword!_ This wasn't just any standard issue sword, this was _Masamune_, nearly as famous as the general himself. How often did Sephiroth let anyone see it this close?

The same awe made him hesitate to touch it, staring at Sephiroth's sword. It wasn't that he thought he'd break it, certainly Masamune was much stronger than anything he could possibly do. But how could _he_ touch Sephrioth's sword? It was...

He was barely worthy to be here in the first place...he had no business _touching_ Masamune. Masamune was Sephiroth's! It was _his_ sword!

_C'mon, Cloud. That's no way to think. You promised me, right?_

He swallowed. _But, Zack, you don't understand, this is..._

Movement froze his thoughts, and snapped his eyes back to Sephiroth's. The general was still watching him carefully, and Cloud had to keep himself from flinching instinctively when those eyes met his. But, when he looked, it was still ok. Sephiroth's expression was nearly the usual calm, but seemed a little off center, his head tilted just slightly to the side. The glow of his eyes was still steady, soft and very green, calm, not startling.

He almost looked... Cloud automatically dismissed it as wrong, how could he expect to understand the general, but still, Sephiroth almost looked confused.

But he couldn't possibly confuse Sephiroth...

The general blinked once, and the tilt was gone, almost as if it had never been there. Sephiroth reached out towards Masamune, Cloud's eyes automatically following his hand.

"Masamune is a katana." Sephiroth's voice was the same even tone, reassuring Cloud a little. At least that strange expression didn't mean he was angry, then, right? Though he didn't really know what the general looked like when he was angry…

Green eyes stopped his thoughts again, and Cloud nodded hurriedly to show he'd understood. Though he didn't really know what that meant...

"A katana only has one sharp edge," Sephiroth explained, pointing towards the side of the sword closest to him. "The other is blunt, used to brace the blade in battle." This time he indicated the other side, the side closest to Cloud.

Cloud looked over the blade with renewed interest. Now that he looked, he could see the sharp slope towards Sephiroth's side of the blade, along the uneven wave pattern in the metal. The side closest to him was straight and brightly polished, and he could see a flat edge, a thin rectangle that ran the entire length of the blade.

So the blunt end was alright to touch, then? Not that he would ever think of touching Sephrioth's weapon! The others were standard issue, or at least in this training room for public use. He at least felt like he had some right to be handling them, even if he had absolutely no experience. But this was different. This was Masamune, Sephiroth's personal weapon!

Still, it was sitting there on the table, beckoning him with bright metal and black guard. He knew that no one at home would believe him if he told them he had been this close to it, that Sephiroth had set it in front of him for him to see. For him, and no one else.

That already was more than he deserved, and he didn't want to overstep his bounds. He already was unbearably grateful, and unable to believe this was happening.

He had to say something, though. Swallowing with difficulty, he tried

to speak a few times, still staring at to blade. He knew that it was rude and cowardly, but if he looked at Sephiroth, he knew he would lose the ability to form a coherent sentence.

For once, he couldn't think of what to say. And so, for once, the words came out without thought. "It's...beautiful."

The words made him want to cringe. Of all the things to say, he had to say beautiful! Not imposing or fearsome or anything like that. This was Sephiroth's sword, for gods' sakes! It wasn't supposed to be beautiful. If he saw it that way, it was just because he was strange. Everyone at home knew that well enough, and now Sephiroth would, too, and-!

But, when he finally scraped together to courage to look up at his mentor, Sephiroth's expression wasn't angered or offended. In fact, the expression in his eyes had softened somehow, the glow warmer than before.

With that same warmth in his eyes, the general touched the dull edge of the blade, running a finger along it. His eyes followed the line of the blade slowly, almost fondly. As he looked up at Cloud, his head cocked slightly to the side again, the change barely noticeable. "It doesn't bite."

Cloud froze, eyes wide. This time, he stared at Sephiroth, not the sword.

Sephiroth's eyes glinted, far to strongly for Cloud to have imagined it, and he inclined his head slightly, meeting Cloud's astonished gaze.

Cloud still stared. It couldn't...he couldn't be... It didn't make sense, no cadet could handle Masamune, could touch it. It was Sephiroth's. It was _General Sephiroth's!_

But Sephiroth drew his hand back and stood still. Waiting. _Go ahead._ Waiting for _him._

Cloud stared at him. Sephiroth was letting him...

That same giddy feeling was back, making his fingers shake. Sephiroth was letting him touch Masamune. Sephiroth was _letting_ him touch his sword, the sword that he carried with him at all times, the sword that in much of the world was synonymous with his name.

And he was letting Cloud touch it!

How could this be happening! He didn't deserve anything like this! Why…?

Was it possible to be this happy and not burst?

His hands were shaking. Ducking his head to hide the grin that threatened to take over his face, Cloud looked at the sword. It was bright and polished, a stark line of steel flashing in the bright lights of the equipment locker. The blade was harsh and sleek, like ice.

It was beautiful. It really was. He hadn't lied about that.

It beckoned him, like it wanted to be touched. Gods, he _wanted_ to touch it. He wanted to see if it was cold like ice, like it looked, or if it was somehow different. He wanted to…

…_I…I can. Sephiroth said…I can._

It was ok. He _could_ touch Masamune. He could. It was ok to answer when it called to him. Sephiroth was letting him.

Trying very hard to stop his hand from shaking, he reached out towards it. Six inches away, four inches, two, one. For a split second he hesitated, nearly making contact with the surface.

A quick glance at Sephiroth showed his mentor's head was still cocked to the side, and green eyes were following him closely. Sephiroth still, however, hadn't moved. He was waiting.

Swallowing, Cloud finally reached forward, and touched the sword.

The metal was bitingly cold, like the ice cliffs back home. Though he had internalized the information, it still came as a shock that the edge beneath his fingers did not cut even slightly, a very firm, blunt surface, barely as wide as a pencil, and longer than he was tall. Curiously, Cloud explored the steel with his fingers, fascinated by the ridge where the warping of the steel's shine traced the center of the blade. His touch sent tiny vibrations along the length of the blade, and he could feel the entire length shift slightly, feel the end moving up and down. The connectedness of such a long object was shocking.

When he tapped it, the vibrations sang a low, quiet note, deep and reverberating.

Between quick glances up at Sephiroth, to make sure that he wasn't doing anything wrong with the general's prize blade, Cloud shifted his attention to the hilt where it rested on the table. He looked carefully at where it connected to the blade, at the guard, and at the hilt itself, the cloth wrapped in a criss-cross pattern. Tentatively, he set his fingers against the top, near the guard. The hilt nestled into the groove between his fingers and thumb. It was strange, seeing as his hand looked hopelessly small on the weapon.

Masamune. The thought of the name made his fingers shake even more. He was holding Masamune's hilt. Masamune!

Masamune was…

He still could only think of one word.

Masamune was beautiful.

This time, when he glanced at Sephiroth, Cloud saw that that mysterious tilt of his head was gone. Some of the warm expression in his eyes had changed, the glow dimmed a little.

The look didn't seem angry, but, then again, Cloud had never seen Sephiroth angry to tell. Still, he didn't want to risk anything. Pulling his hand back, Cloud straightened up after one last look at Masamune. The general probably wanted his sword back, either way.

Sephiroth hesitated as Strife pulled back quickly from Masamune's hilt, hoping he hadn't frightened the boy. Investigation of the sword's hilt was fine, he actually welcomed it. It meant the boy was interested in more than just sharp objects, and maybe could someday appreciate the actual intricacies of the sword itself. He'd been beyond relieved to see the way Strife had treated his blade with the reverence and awe it deserved. Strife had seen…it. That thing that Sephiroth could never name. Strife had seen it, somehow, some part of it. He had seen it in the boy's eyes.

Strife had called his blade beautiful. Strife thought Masamune was beautiful. The mixture of pride and fierce joy at that surprised him in its intensity. He must have been afraid, he realized. Afraid he'd been given a cadet who would never understand this part of him.

But that was not the case.

When Strife had begun to test the hilt against his hand, however, Sephiroth had been worried the cadet would try to lift Masamune. His handling of the SOLDIER sword had been poor and clumsy; with Masamune, which was much more unwieldy, Strife could have seriously hurt himself.

He hadn't quite known how to say that without startling the boy, however. And, before he had the chance, Strife had happened to glance at him, evidently seen something change on his face, and retreated.

Scolding himself, Sephiroth resolved to give the boy another chance to see the blade after he had set some basic guidelines. It would still be a while yet before he allowed Strife to actually lift Masamune, and even then, not without significant safety procedures.

Still, Strife didn't look too worried, which was good. The cadet sat straight, but he wasn't shaking. He actually looked...

Sephiroth wasn't sure how, but Strife's eyes were bright and content, only a little worried. As if this had been a good lesson. As if, somehow, he had calmed down from the high stress earlier. As if, perhaps, he had learned or seen something worthwhile.

Was that really true…?

Glancing at the clock, Sephiroth was surprised to find half of him actually displeased that their appointed time was ending. There were other things he wanted to show Strife. There were things he wanted to see Strife try too, to judge his ability, to see if he could, perhaps, actually teach him a skill, rather than show him the results of one.

A terribly frightening thought.

Which explained why the other part of him was relieved at the prospect of sending Strife away. Sephiroth decided that, for today, he would release the boy two minutes early, to ensure he reached his next class on time. Strife's behavior, after all, was now partially his responsibility, and that included promptness and preparedness.

He ignored the fact that that it was also because he could use the reprieve, as well.

Turning towards the cadet, Sephiroth tilted his head until he saw Strife look at the clock. "That is what we have time for today," he stated, then paused, uncertain. He felt like he should say something more. Was there anything else to say?"

Strife blinked, seeming caught by surprise by the statement. Sephiroth watched, unsure, as a look of disappointment flashed through blue eyes. Could it really be that Strife was...disappointed to leave?

That didn't make any sense. Hadn't he just startled the boy again mere seconds ago? Didn't he frighten the cadet? Strife could put up with his presence, yes, and that was admirable, but actually benefit from it...? Actually enjoy it…?

How was that possible…?

Still mulling over the myriads of things he didn't know, Sephiroth forced himself to attend to the business at hand. Carefully, he picked Masamune up off of the table. Strife's widened eyes only caught up to him a second later. Scolding himself, Sephiroth slowed his movements, carefully maneuvering the sword into its sheath, and rebuckling the harness over his shoulders. Not everyone knew that he had perfect control of the blade at all times. Strife probably had been afraid he'd be hit.

He'd never allow that to happen, but that could be established later.

Looking up to find the boy still watching him, Sephiroth inclined his head towards the door. "Let's go."

Strife nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned to go, then clumsily reversed direction to push his chair in, stumbling a little in his haste. Without any apparent thought, he pushed in Sephiroth's too.

While Strife tidied the chairs, Sephiroth put away the various weapons, feeling a smile in his eyes. And Strife thought he had to worry about angering him? How silly. He seemed to be both considerate and intelligent, and, better yet, he seemed to be spared the various habits that drove Sephiroth insane. Of all the cadets he could have been assigned, Strife was perhaps the best fit, and yet the cadet didn't even seem aware.

Now if only he were such an ideal teacher. But that was impossible.

By the time he finished, Strife was already outside; he could hear the standard issue boots against the practice room floor. Strife was surprisingly quiet in the loud boots.

Locking the door with his keycard, Sephiroth turned to see Strife gathering up his bag. A quick analysis revealed that, to his relief, Strife's fingers weren't shaking, though the way the boy turned quickly when he looked at him seemed to indicate that Strife acutely felt his eyes.

Blue eyes darted to his uncertainly, and Sephiroth was for the first time in his life caught staring. He himself had been stared at hundreds of times, but he'd never had to deal with the reverse...

The silence, which usually he welcomed, immediately began to feel tense and awkward. And so he needed to say something into it.

What was he supposed to say...? What did he have to say...?

Logistics, facts. That was always a safe bet. Blinking once, to break the hypnotic affect his eyes sometimes developed, Sephiroth inclined his head slightly. "Our next meeting will be scheduled within a week. I will ensure you receive the particulars as soon as I can. Please be on time."

That felt adequate from a purely technical point of view. Information, then setting the expectations again, just in case Strife had forgotten. This was one of the strategies used to set up briefings. But this wasn't a briefing. And he owed Strife more than that, especially after the cadet had put up with him for so long today.

After all, hadn't Strife done admirably in meeting that expectation once already? Even beyond that, hadn't he managed to _speak_ to Sephiroth, one on one, and even relax enough to touch Masmune? Sephiroth had never expected any cadet to be do that so quickly. Strife had done far better than expected today, and he deserved to be commended for it, not reminded of further expectations. That would just stress him more, and the boy had already proven quite easily distressed. Sephiroth didn't want him to feel like he was scolding him when he had just done so many things so wonderfully.

So, tilting his head uncertainly, Sephiroth made sure to look at Strife steadily, so that he would see the approval in his eyes, if he could. What was it Angeal said about praising people? _Just tell the truth._

_Alright._ "You did well today, Strife."

Strife blinked, seeming surprised. And then a smile flickered across his face. That same shy, uncertain smile.

And, just as before, Sephiroth felt his mood lighten to see it.

Cloud felt a warm tingle spread across his cheeks as the rebellious smile refused to hide. He couldn't help it. Everything told him to reject the words, but then Sephiroth's calm eyes made it impossible for him to ignore.

He had done...alright today? Beyond that, he had done _well!_ That was impossible! He couldn't have…he couldn't have possibly…

But...Sephiroth's eyes were glowing a little, warmly, and the general's head was slightly tilted and he just looked...

He meant it. Sephiroth meant what he said. He had to; the general never lied!

Sephiroth thought that...he had done well. He had done...ok? This was...

Was this really…what he had been so worried about? That wasn't so hard... Actually, that was almost...nice. It had been fascinating, interesting, and he had learned so much his head was spinning. And that was just half an hour. This was until he…

Until he made SOLDIER…

But he wouldn't because he was worthless, and weak, and-!

But he would. Because Sephiroth had said he would.

He'd done ok today…

Feeling his smile widen, Cloud took a deep breath, trying to find his voice. Words danced around in his chest, refusing to obey him, but he felt like he should say _something_. After all, Sephiroth had been beyond kind to him today. Odin, he had _held_ Masamune! How could he ever even have asked for that much in a mentor! It couldn't be easy for Sephiroth to deal with a cadet like him, not when... And yet, even when Cloud had been terrified and lost his voice Sephiroth had been patient, and even gentle, and let him touch his sword, and...

He'd never thought the general would be like this. Swallowing, Cloud smiled up at Sephiroth. He'd never thought he'd be saying this to the general, either, not like this. He never thought… After his third try, he finally managed to force his tongue to behave, and the words finally broke free. "Thank you, sir..."

_Thank you...for making it ok._

It felt good to thank him. Cloud's smile must have been far too wide, it was hurting his cheeks, and he could feel himself start shaking again, but he almost didn't care. He was just so happy…!

_I think...I think I can do this...maybe. I think…_

Sephiroth watched him carefully, but that same glint was back in his eyes that made it easy to meet his gaze. That the look wasn't anything about Cloud's shortfalls. That look wasn't disappointed. And that was far more than he had ever expected in the first place.

_Thank you._

For long seconds Cloud smiled at Sephiroth, something inside him shaking with elated uncertainty as the general didn't break the gaze. How could this be happening? It shouldn't be possible. It had to be something he was imagining. He'd wake up and it'd be...

Something softened in Sephiroth's eyes, his expression shifting slightly, and Cloud thought the general tilted his head a little more, that same confused expression he had dismissed earlier as impossible.

The movement jarred him back to the fact that he was staring. Abruptly, the realization magnifying the panicky shaking in his gut, Cloud broke the gaze, swallowing with difficulty as he tried to find the power to move. He was _staring!_ He didn't want to do that! What if he annoyed Sephiroth, leaving on bad note at the end their first session! The general would never put up with him after that! He had to leave, now, or else he'd do something and mess it all up...!

Instinct made him smile politely, try to say something else, a goodbye, something, anything. His mom had taught him better than to just run off without a word, she'd have his head if he didn't say something… "H-have a good day, sir." His voice must have cracked three times as he turned to go, nearly dropping all his things in his effort to leave the room quickly.

As he skittered down the hall, that same elated shivering making his heart pound, Cloud clutched his things to his chest, trying to calm down. That...had gone so much better than he had expected! Had he just fallen asleep, dreamed all that, dreamed that it was alright?

No, he couldn't have. He could still remember the feeling of Masmane's hilt against his hand, the cold of the blade. He would never have the presumption to dream that Sephrioth had let him touch the sword. It must have happened. It _must_ have!

He needed to talk to Zack, he decided as he took deep breath. He had promised. And Zack...Zack had been right! Zack was right!

For long seconds after Strife disappeared, Sephiroth blinked after the cadet, startled by the boy's sudden departure. He hadn't...he hadn't scared him, had he? He hadn't…that would be terrible!

After a second of panic, he forced his emotions to quiet, and carefully analyzed those last few seconds of Strife's behavior, trying to discern some reason for the abrupt retreat. Strife had been smiling, hadn't he? He had been...happy, right?

Right?

Yes. That instant where Strife turned from the door to say his goodbye, he _had_ been smiling, even if the look on his face was also uncertain. That same very uncertain smile.

The sigh of relief at that realization surprised Sephiroth; he hadn't realized he was holding his breath. But the feeling was inescapable, almost as if something inside him were shaking.

So...Strife had been alright, then. So...he had done ok?

He still couldn't quite believe it. Strife had...been alright. Strife had listened to him, Strife had _enjoyed_ the lesson. He had _taught_ the boy something.

Strife had touched Masamune. _Felt_ the blade, at least in part. Not just the metal and violence, but the blade itself. The look in the boy's eyes at that moment, the reverence with which he had handled the blade, that had been...incredible! Sephiroth had never thought the cadet would show such respect for his blade. Caution, yes, but not such... It took years to develop an appreciation of a sword's soul like that, didn't it...? It was so rare to find someone who would look at a sword like that…Genesis had picked it up from him, and Angeal had been special to start with. And, suddenly, Strife was…

And Strife had asked him a question. _Asked_ him. Spoken to him. With a little encouragement, of course, but still, that was more than any cadet had ever managed. Usually it took at least till third class for the rookies to even find their voices.

The smile that fought to cross his face was difficult to restrain, though he managed. Maybe, then, he could do this...? He was not prepared to commit fully, but it was...

_Angeal...how did you know?_ It was a silly question, he knew. Even if he asked, he was quite certain he'd never understand the answer. But he just couldn't help it.

Shaking his head, Sephiroth straightened up, trying to gather his thoughts. So...he was done...for today. That was...strange.

He felt a little foolish after worrying so much this morning.

Well, not entirely. Some of that worry, clearly, had been warranted, judging by the many things he had done wrong.

Multiple incidents leapt to the forefront of his mind, unbidden; the many times he had scolded himself, with several new instances he only noticed now in hindsight. He honestly felt the need to go write a personal mission statement on this. That way, at least, he would be certain to record everything. That was what he did when training for combat, after all. Why not this, too? Write out each point on which he needed improvement, and analyze possible strategies.

Just thinking about it made him sigh. Gods, there were so many places he had been sloppy today! It was a miracle Strife had managed.

Blinking, Sephiroth restrained the uncharacteristic desire to roll his eyes. Really, one would think he was some rookie after watching that performance. He had even forgotten to lay down the rest of his ground rules. He had been so distracted by the fact that Strife had actually asked his question that he had completely forgotten the rest of them.

Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth closed his hand on Masamune's hilt, using the blade to calm himself. _Well, I will simply have to do that next time._

That thought pleased him just about as much as it terrified him, which was somewhat unnerving. Really, it was amazing that one teenager could be quite so confusing.

Trying to sort out his emotions was not something he had time for, though. A glance at the clock told him that he had about fifteen minutes before he was due to go to an intelligence briefing on Wutain troop movements and new tech developments.

With a small sigh, Sephiroth carefully released the hilt of his sword, composing himself and stowing away his surprise and conflicting emotions for later analysis.

He would have to dedicate an hour to that tonight. This level of preoccupation would not diffuse over the course of the day, much as part of him wished it would. No, it would remain, unnerving and unresolved, until further meditation.

Still, all things considered, he could say Strife was...much different than he had anticipated. Any questions he had answered from this morning had been replaced and reinforced. He would have to revise his understanding of the cadet. It seemed that the longer he spent around the boy, the more confused he became.

He was just on his way out when a small object caught his eye on the floor where Strife had retrieved his supplies, metallic sheen and strange edges contrasting sharply with the smooth floor.

Confused-he had been sure the room had been clean when he came in-Sephiroth carefully picked up the oddly shaped object, turning it over curiously.

It was an earring. A wolf glowered at him proudly from the small face, regardeding him with narrow, sightless silver eyes over the metal ring held in its teeth.

Blinking, Sephiroth regarded it thoughtfully. The earring, logically, had to be Strife's. It had certainly not been here when Sephiroth had arrived, and only the two of them had been in the room since. Earrings were not uncommon among Shinra employees; Genesis always wore one, so it was not particularly out of the ordinary for a SOLDIER or even a cadet to wear one.

But earrings didn't just fall off unnoticed. Sephiroth had only ever seen Genesis lose his earring once, and that was during a brutally intense sparring session. Strife had not been moving nearly that fast today; they had barely moved at all. And the metal against his fingers was cool, almost cold.

The earring had not been worn.

So why would Strife carry an earring that he did not wear? It didn't make sense. It wasn't as if the cadet couldn't leave it in his room, there were plenty of secure places hidden in the dormitories. What, then, would be the reason to carry it?

The moving second hand on the clock intruded on his thought process, annoying but ever-present. He did not have time for this question or any of them if he had wanted to get back to his office and write a few quick notes before leaving for the briefing.

With a quiet sigh, Sephiroth carefully pocketed Strife's earring, making certain that it was tucked away where he wouldn't lose it. What ever his reason for carrying it, Strife would be wanting it back. As he left the room, Sephiroth visualized his schedule, trying to figure out when he could go and drop the earring off for Strife. After all, it was hardly considerate to make the boy wait until their next lesson. If Strife acted similarly in his other classes as he did here, he would realize shortly that he was missing the earring and be very distressed trying to find it.

And that was unacceptable.

Sephiroth didn't even notice that he did not even feel a moment of anxiety about stopping in to see the cadet sooner than anticipated. Instead, even as it quickly faded from conscious thought, the tiny extra weight of the earring in his pocket settled pleasantly into a feeling of purpose. It belonged to Strife, it clearly must be returned to him as soon as possible. Clear and refreshingly simple.

And maybe he'd cause that little smile again.

All in all, Sephiroth was hard pressed to remember ever being in such a good mood upon entering an intel briefing.


End file.
